


Chipping Away

by Voice_of_Mischief



Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: I have no idea what I'm doing, I'm too lazy to actually fix the tags I'm sorry, I've been informed this AU is actually Undertomb?, Slow Burn, Slow Romance, Some violence btw, Undertomb AU, also spoiler that isnt really a spoiler: isaac has a patience soul, cw: amputation, cw: body disphoria, cw: dismemberment, cw: heavily implied abusive parent, cw: heavily implied sexual content, cw: implied alcoholic family members, gender neutral reader, isaac has heterochromia btw, just a warning, like really slow gotdam, oc- Isaac, reader is heavily implied to be demisexual, reader is heavily implied to be gender nonbinary, so there's that, update:, updated description eyyyyy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-06-27
Updated: 2018-05-11
Packaged: 2018-07-18 12:43:18
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 41
Words: 129,065
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7315660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Voice_of_Mischief/pseuds/Voice_of_Mischief
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>You're not normal, not by far. Your tolerance levels are high, perhaps too high. The first time a monster told you how tasty your lungs would be toasted on a spit, you had calmly told them that you needed those, unfortunately, and you preferred they remain uneaten. </p><p>You are a medic. It is your job to find those who are hurt and heal them. It's what you do. It's what you've always done. And now, you are here, and there are many to save, many to keep alive, someone who doesn't want to let you go, and someone who will either remember or not forget you. But what will all that matter if this place is chipping away at you? What will it matter if this place seeks to fulfill your purpose in being here? What will it matter if this place becomes more of a home than the surface?</p><p>What will matter when someone must die at the end?</p><p>((Undertomb AU))</p><p>((Previously titled 'Can we not?'))</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Skeletons

What the hell?

What the fuck?

Just... Why you?

So, not only did monsters AND magic exist- goodbye, reality as you knew it- but there was an enormous underground cavern full of them and they all wanted to kill and/or eat humans. And you had just so happened to be the unlucky scrap to fall down this time. Life could never cut you a break...

You slouched against the enormous lavender door that led to the Ruins- from which you had just escaped a certain goat monster's false mothering act-, gingerly tugging on the gauze around your wrist with your teeth to tighten the burn bandage. Your medical training and self defense classes were serving you well, but it was proving to be frustrating, attempting to tend to your wounded hand with just your spare. Finally, you gave up on the half-assed situation and straightened, dusting yourself off and stuffing the gauze and medical tape back in your pocket before begrudgingly heading down the forest path.

...

There was someone behind you.

You could feel it, feel their eyes on you.

They snapped a twig. You tried not to flinch, and kept moving. 

Finally, you stopped on... a bridge of sorts, with an odd wooden gate above it. Or, you were forced to stop. Your feet were suddenly made of lead and refused to move. You straightened your shoulders and stood very still as now audible footsteps crunched through the thick snow, drawing slowly, painfully closer. 

"human. don't you know how to greet a new pal? turn around and shake my hand."

You could feel your toes again, and you turned, but you did not offer your hand for whoever was behind you to shake. Instead, you swung swiftly, lashing out with your elbow and catching something hard and solid that made electricity shoot up your arm. You choked a sound back, instead focusing on the monster who had now stepped back a step or two, clutching their enormous jaw. In one hand was a weapon... A meat cleaver? So your instincts had led you well.

You couldn't help but blink in surprise when it lifted its head- that was a skeleton you'd just elbowed in the face. No wonder it hurt so much... Cracks spider webbed across one side of his skull, and he bore his teeth in what looked like a very forced smile through a painful looking underbite as one socket glowed an eerie, sinister red. He seemed to study you a moment, then chuckled lowly.

"that's an odd sort of hand shake you got there, pal."

You studied him right back, much more suspiciously. "... Didn't break anything, did I?"

He looked vaguely confused, pulling himself into a slightly more upright position, stuffing his hands half heartedly in his black pockets. The cleaver still hung out in plain view. "nope. takes more than that to break these bones."

"That's a weight off my conscience. I would say I'm sorry for hitting you in the face, but, uh..." You let your gaze flicker to the cleaver briefly. "Something tells me I would have received a worse turn if I hadn't."

He chuckled again. "you're one of the smarter humans. makes me wonder if your brain would taste any different."

"The answer to that is no. Brains are all made up of the same stuff. How you use it doesn't really change that, so I'd assume they'd all be about the same. Pardon me, but I'm not exactly the type to know what my species tastes like in general, let alone specific parts." Thank god your 'gross out' reflex had become so numb over the years, otherwise you'd be gagging at the smell hanging in the air right about now...

He seemed caught off guard by your shtick, which was what you had intended. Better confuse him than provoke him, right? You wanted to get out of this place alive, thank you very little. He was quiet for a few long moments, and you wondered if there was something on your cheek or if he was prepping himself to attack you. You made sure you had several modes of escape, just in case. 

"you're an odd sort of human, aren'tcha?" He chuckled, absently lifting a hand to scratch at his bulldog-like jaw. "most of the ones i've met haven't been so eager to make small talk. hey, if you're gonna be friendly, might as well shake my hand and be my pal, eh?" He stuck out his hand again, cleaver slipping just slightly behind his back as if he was hoping you wouldn't notice it. "Sans. Sans the skeleton."

You eyed him a moment, watching the sweat bead and roll off his skull. Was he seriously hot in weather like this...? How could skeletons even sweat? Monsters were weird. Eventually, you dipped your head slightly and started slowly closing the distance between you. 

"Alright, uh, Sans. Would say I'm pleased to make your acquaintance, but that wouldn't really be the truth, so I'd rather not become a liar." 

His smile twitched, looking faintly cautious as you came ever closer. Just a few more steps...

"Names (Y/N), and I hope I won't be seeing you." 

At the last moment, you scooped up a handful of snow from a nearby, overhanging branch and chucked it at him, watching it catch him in the empty socket before spinning on your heel and ducking beneath the gate, taking off deeper into the woods. You heard him curse behind you, and you felt faintly satisfied at your trick.

For a moment, you ran on in relative silence, save for the adrenaline roaring in your ears and the crunching of your footsteps. For all you knew, you were running into yet more danger, but your instincts said to keep going anyway. Perhaps there was some method of real escape in this direction; standing still wouldn't help you any. You wanted to keep your brains inside your head, thank you very little. 

Then, the skeleton began to flicker in and out of your vision, and the next thing you knew you were in a headlock. You thrashed a moment, drawing a chuckle out of the wall of bone behind you, then forced the tide of panic back enough to form a coherent thought. Stomp on his foot, drop your hands from his thick, stained sleeve, elbow him, then twist... That's it! Couldn't do much when he wasn't cutting off your air, could he? One forceful shove later and you were staggering away from one another, you panting, him grinning tensely at you.

For a few moments, neither of you said anything. You kept your eyes on him, watching for any sudden movements. He studied you likewise, gaze unreadable. The tension could have been cut with a knife. Finally,

"well?" He spoke almost expectantly, the skeleton equivalent to eyebrows raising a fraction as he stared at you. You narrowed an eye at him, dusting your hands off slowly as you caught your breath.

"Well, what?" When he glanced pointedly toward your feet, you hesitantly followed his gaze. Sitting a few inches from your shoe was his cleaver. You reached out with a foot and pulled it closer to you, but kept your eyes on the skeleton. "What about it?"

"ain't it obvious? you do know what cleaver's are built for, dontcha?" It was hard to read expression on that massive maw of his, but he looked almost indignant, as if he was underlyingly angry that you were 'playing dumb.'

You slowly bent down and picked up the weapon, hefting its weight in your hand. "Sure I do. No stranger to weapons of the sort, honestly." You saw his eye flicker in its socket, but opted to dwell on it later. "Know enough to know that if I gripped it just here and held it like so..." 

You put your hand on the bottom of the handle, tested it in your grip a moment, then drew your arm above your head. The skeleton instantly shifted his position, looking ready to dodge in either direction, eye glowing fiercely now- but the next instant you turned and sharply chucked the heavy weapon. With a solid 'thunk!', it was embedded stiffly in some poor tree that just so happened to be standing in the way. 

The skeleton stood there for a moment, staring at the blade as if expecting something else to happen. Then he blinked- what? Skull? Blink? What??- and his gaze shifted to stare at you. Again, you felt it was hard to read expression on something set in such a way as bone and jaw. But it almost felt as if he was staring at you as if you had a screw loose. 

You might, at this point. You honestly couldn't tell. What made others shriek and squeal drew a more 'eh' reaction out of you, at this point. But then, after seeing so much gore on real human bodies over the years, horror movies just didn't impress you anymore.

Before he could say anything, however, you turned on your heel and took off once more. The blade being stuck should keep him distracted a minute this time, at the very least. But, after keeping up a steady pace for a few minutes, you still didn't hear anything behind you. A little bit further, and you slowed to a trot, then to a stroll. These woods, though giving off a 'found-footage horror movie' vibe, were oddly serene. It had been a good long while since you'd seen snow, and during that snowfall, you hadn't had much chance to enjoy it; people around here- above ground, actually- didn't know two shits about driving on ice.

 

Whistling softly as you walked along, you began to wonder if there was any sort of civilization down here anyway. You'd ran into a few monsters, of course, but with a little bit of work, you had gotten out mostly unharmed. You still had a few spare rolls of gauze and medical tape, so you were generally okay, beside the fact that your work boots were now blood stained and, while it didn't show up on black very well, it still would bother you until you got new ones. Like, they'd already gotten stained before, but... This was different. Because reasons.

You spun a roll on your finger, wanting to keep your hands busy as you kept an eye out for threats. You lightly kicked at a stone poking out from beneath the snow, not at all surprised when it didn't budge in the slightest.

And just about then, there was the sound of a branch breaking, followed by a sharp shriek quickly cut off. Your instincts, ground into you after years of being on the paramedic work force, kicked in and you sped up, looking around for where the sound came from. One sharp turn in the path later, and you came across a large heap of snow, the branch that more likely than not broke under its weight, and what seemed to be a very tall and thin person attempting to scramble out from beneath the mess. 

When you stepped forward, the snow crunching beneath your feet, the monster's head snapped up to look at you. Well, if the skeleton before was too wide and squashed looking, this guy had the opposite problem; everything about him seem elongated, even his long, jagged jaws. His sockets stared at you blankly, and again you found it hard to read expression on a face like that. Still, you stopped and put up your hands.

"Heya, pal. You look like you need some help."

The... skeleton thing stared at you for another long, quiet moment, then went back to trying to push himself up and out of the mess. When you took a cautious step forward, he didn't regard you any further, so you hurried forward, assuming he wouldn't mind having a hand. 

The branch dug into your shoulders as you pressed your weight against it, and at first you thought that even your combined efforts weren't going to be enough. Then, it scraped your skin and moved an inch, then another. After a minute of straining and trying to ignore the knotty wood digging into your already sore shoulders, it finally rolled away and the skeleton- you could easily see his ribs jutting out through his black apparel now- dragged himself out from beneath it, long, spindly legs folding it a very unnatural position as he sat about a foot away, still quiet. 

You dusted off your hands, then turned to face him. "Alright. Anything broken?"

He stared blankly at the ground, and, following his gaze, you saw two long, broken phalanges lying beneath a scuffling of snow. Upon glancing back at the skeleton, you noticed one of his hands had a few gaps between the inhumanly long fingers.

"Oh dear." You scratched your cheek, then stepped forward and scooped up the severed fingers. At least this would be less messy than fixing human fingers. 

When you made for the skeleton, fingers in hand, he seemed to perceive you as a threat and lifted himself up slightly on all fours. It was... awkward looking, but you stopped and held your hands up again, attempting to be unthreatening.

"Hey, I'm not gonna hurt ya. No weapons, see? I can help put your... fingers back in place." 

He blinked at you blankly for a few long moments, then settled back down. When you moved for him again, he stayed where he was, but you could feel those empty sockets boring into you. When you extended a hand to him, he stared at him dumbly before lightly patting it with one of his own, then lowering his hand again. You chuckled under your breath, bemused despite yourself.

"Alright, so you're in shock, I suppose. Here, give me your left hand." He lifted a hand. "Other left." Finally, you got the correct hand in your own. You studied it a moment, flipping it idly, curious over it somewhere in the back of your mind. 

He eyed you suspiciously when you slipped a hand into your pocket, then cocked his head curiously as you pulled out a roll of bright red medical tape. You ended up sitting on a sizable stone next to him, trying to figure out the best way to go about this.

"Alright, pal. What's your name?"

"PAPYRUS."

You stifled a wince. A loud voice, sounding almost akin to nails on a chalkboard, had not been what you were expecting, but you could deal. "Nice name. Tell me, does this hurt?" You cautiously flicked the broken stump of his finger, still attached to his metacarpus'. 

"NO?" 

You paused, mulling it over in your head. "Alright, uh, would you normally be able to feel that?" When he shook his head, you somehow weren't very surprised. "Alright, that's fair. So, uh... Where... Do you live?"

"SNOWDIN."

Maybe they didn't use house numbers around here? Hm. "Uh, alright. Do you know what day it is?"

"THURSDAY?"

"Uh, okay." You snickered under your breath, carefully trying to line up his severed finger with what was left behind before tugging at the red tape and gingerly putting the end where the two pieces connected. "Hold still for me, this should only take a minute. So, let's see... Do you know what year it is?"

"... 2000 SOMETHING?" 

"Alright. So, uh... Who's your best friend?"

You had no idea what questions to ask this guy; it was both a method to see just how hurt a person was and to keep them slightly distracted as you worked them, but you didn't know where to start with monsters that were twice your size and would probably kill you the second the shock wore off and they realized you were a human, in the perfect position to strangle or do something worse.

"THERE IS... MY BROTHER. BUT THERE IS ALSO UNDYNE. SHE IS VERY COOL."

"Alright. Okay, you're all patched up, but you should see a real doctor to get that checked out. I don't know a lot about mending, uh, bone, but that should keep your fingers on until you can see someone properly. I wouldn't recommend using that hand very much until it's properly healed, as the tape may not last very long with a lot of stretching and the fingers might fall off again. Take care of yourself, uh, Papyrus." 

You gave his shoulder, about level with your head, an awkward pat. At the action, he seemed to brighten, and for a moment you were afraid he had realized what you were and geared up to run, then his hand fell upon your head a few times in a heavy pat before lifting himself onto all fours and trotting away in said manner, throwing a "THANK YOU, STRANGE MONSTER!" over his shoulder as he went.

You dusted off your hands, slipping the tape back into your pocket. Well, that went better than expected. Now, let's see if there was somewhere to hide out for the night around here...

 

Sans didn't stir from his place on the couch when his long-limbed brother came shambling through the doorway, bright-eyed as ever. He cracked an eye open to watch him stand up to his full height, tottering on the stumps of his feet, before dusting bits of bark and pine needles off his clothes. 

"GOOD EVENING, SANS!"

"hey, bro. how'd the human hunt go?" 

Part of him was waiting for Papyrus to say he had one in the shed, or to suddenly snap his fingers and go back out only to drag the human he'd seen earlier inside behind him. The other part assumed some other monster had gotten it, and that Papyrus was going to pout over losing one. He was surprised by his brother's answer.

"I DIDN'T SEE ONE, BUT I DID MEET AN ODD MONSTER OUT IN THE WOODS TODAY!"

"yeah?"

Papyrus continued to speak as he slid into the kitchen, soon speaking over the sound of kitchenware clanging against one another. "YES! I HAD GOTTEN STUCK UNDER A BRANCH THAT AIMED TO TRAP ME, BUT THE ODD MONSTER CAME AND HELPED ME ESCAPE ITS CLUTCHES! THEY WERE VERY FRIENDLY. LOOK, SANS! THEY EVEN GAVE ME SOME VERY COOL... SOMETHINGS TO KEEP MY FINGERS ON AFTER THEY FELL OFF!"

Sans raised an eyebrow, narrowing an eye at the red tape wrapped around Papyrus' extended phalanges. "huh."

"VERY NEAT, INDEED, BUT THEY SAID I SHOULD SEE DOCTOR ALPHYS TO MAKE SURE THEY DON'T FALL OFF AGAIN. I DIDN'T GET THEIR NAME, BUT THEY WERE VERY NICE. IT WAS SILLY, THOUGH."

"silly?"

"I'D NEVER SEEN THEM BEFORE, BUT THEY WERE VERY ODD LOOKING. IN FACT, THEY ALMOST LOOKED LIKE A HUMAN! QUITE RIDICULOUS! NYUH HUH HUH!" 

Sans opened his eyes again, staring harder at the tape wound around Papyrus' fingers. That human... 

He shifted, burrowing deeper into the couch's cushions. They were... odd. Maybe if he saw them again, he'd learn something useful, like if they were a threat or not. As it was, he didn't want to think too much about it; they probably wouldn't last long, anyway.

Probably?

Most likely.

Maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Um???
> 
> I was really bored kill me,, This might turn out to just be a one-shot? Maybe? Like, I have no idea what I'm doing,, as usual,,
> 
> If you think I should continue, leave me a comment? Or something. I don't know.


	2. Sheep

You just want to go HOME. It's not perfect, sure; it's dark and gloomy 900% of the time, the city is full of terrible people of the violent sort, and you're incredibly busy when you work, but at least no one wanted to eat you, for Pete's sake. At least you had a bed to sleep in. At least you were helping society in your own small way. At least you had been content with your monotonous life.

You'd never been one for too much excitement, which must sound rich coming from a paramedic living in one of the most danger-ridden cities around. You knew what you did, how to do it, and did it well. It was simple. You had been just another cog in a machine that could arguably use some oil, but you did your job and that was that. Plain and easy. Pizza every other Friday, sometimes every Friday if you had to deal with one too many drunks or crack heads, movies in the dark, go to bed at a time that was considered insane when you had to wake at five in the morning, rinse and repeat. 

You had been content. Comfortable. As boring as it might have sounded, it was all you needed.

And now, huddled beneath a low-growing, prickly-leafed bush in an attempt to stay awake and save your hide, you would have been more than content to go back. You were so sick and tired of these monsters. Dancing around and around the mulberry bush, the monkey chased the weasel... Right? Was that how it went? Well, now you knew how that damned weasel felt. Couldn't they just cut you a break for once? Even when the underground fell dark- their own form of night time, you guessed- some of them were still lurking around.

You were so tired. But you couldn't sleep for more then five minutes at a time. But you were just so tired. Even rubbing chunks of ice across your cheeks or the back of your neck wasn't helping any more. You felt so heavy. So worn down. Stay awake, stay awake...

Maybe if you... kept an ear out... you'd always been a light sleeper, anyway...

You drew your coat tighter around you, drawing the thin hood over your head and laying your head on your knees. A few minutes couldn't hurt.

 

A week had passed, and Sans had yet to hear if anyone had caught the human, and, guessing from the lack of fresh parts in the shops, it seemed no one had. That was... odd. He hadn't heard of any monsters going missing, either, which meant they hadn't been killing anyone to get out of sticky situations. He was beginning to get anxious to see their parts in someone's arms; the only human that was really supposed to be able to survive any length of time hadn't shown up yet, but he knew they would any day now.

Frisk. They were the one human that always showed up. Most of the time, in the months preceding their fall, a few humans would fall and be swiftly killed off and, well, taken care of. Sans had never been very fond of killing them himself- he'd rather just clean up the leftovers, if you catch my drift- but he had, once or twice, had to kill off a human that either lasted too long that wasn't Frisk, or panicked and picked up a weapon every time they were attacked, rather than just pleading for help as they usually did. 

The humans that fell were always different, except for Frisk. It made things interesting, at least. He'd never seen you before, but you didn't fall into his two categories of 'too soft' or 'too scared.' He didn't know how to feel about it, especially with Papyrus still wearing the makeshift bandage you'd apparently given him out of the kindness of your heart. Still. You were supposed to have been axed off by now. 

Maybe he'd make a point of looking for you later... It was only so long before this place got to you. Wore you down. Made you an easy target. Maybe he could just sit back and wait for it to happen. He'd always been rather lazy, anyway.

 

You blinked hazily awake, then lurched into attentiveness, pushing yourself further into the prickly bush and away from the gap in the leaves that acted as an entrance to your small shelter. 

The large eye, seated in the center of five crumpled, yellow petals, blinked slowly at you. You couldn't help but curl your lip a little, nose scrunching. Ech. Eyeball. No thanks. 

For a few moments, it was silent.

"Y o u ' r e n o t m e a n t t o b e a l i v e." It hissed, narrowing its eye at you. You raised an eyebrow. How could it speak...?

"I'm, uh, rather aware of that. I'm reminded every time I go fifteen feet in any direction."

It looked like you'd gone and pissed it off, but still it made no move. For a while, it was silent. "P e r h a p s t h i s n e x t r u n w i l l b e i n t e r e s t i n g."

And then in disappeared into the earth. Well then. Okay. Whatever that was. You honestly couldn't care enough to dwell on that any further.

You shuffled out from beneath the bush, stretching your arms above your head and listening to the bone segments crack against one another. Sleeping under a bush wasn't doing wonders for your back, apparently.

You ducked under a tree branch, snapping off an icicle as you went, chewing it idly as you meandered through the woods. You didn't know how long you'd been sleeping, but you felt better than you had a while. Now, where to go next...

You'd finally come across the town you assumed Papyrus lived in- it stood in the way of you and what you assumed was another cavern closer to the exit, but you had no one idea how to get around it. It was absolutely crawling with monsters, in and around it. You'd almost been spotted the last time you'd been trying to find a way around it, so you decided to steer clear of it until further notice. 

Maybe there was something you'd missed near the Ruins... Was worth a shot.

You hummed softly as you paced through the woods, dodging quietly around clearings where monsters were snuffling through the snow or staring blankly off into space. Eventually, the cave wall appeared through the breaks in the trees and you followed alongside it, running your fingers over the rugged stone and loose pebbles. This place could have been pretty enchanting if it weren't for, uh... You eyed a crude, red smear that could have been a drawing of some sort, smelling distinctly of iron. That. 

Finally, the door came into sight. You pulled up to a halt, blinking in disbelief. 

A small kid was just slipping through, the sound of weeping following them. Was that Toriel crying...? She'd chased you to the door, screaming her rage and fury about how you wouldn't survive a minute out there- she'd only given up when you had escaped before she could reach you. How had this kid gotten through her without pulling the same sort of trick, let alone made her cry?

The door closed softly, and the child glanced around, hair bobbing softly in the light of their lantern. They looked scared and lost and hopeless. Something bright red trickled down their arm and you instantly stepped out from the tree cover- instinctually drawn to the need to help them, somehow. 

They glanced up when your feet crunched against the snow and their expression changed to one of terror and they held up their hands as if to keep you away, backing into an outcropping of stone. Huh. You must really look like a mess. 

You stopped and held up your hands placatingly, softening your expression.

"Hey, buddy. Don't worry. I just want to help you out. Look, I'm human, too. I'm not gonna hurtcha."

You slipped one of your sleeves down a bit, showing the old bandages in need of a change there. Their expression shifted to disbelief, then hope, tears spilling down their cheeks. You stepped forward and kneeled in front of them, pulling the dwindling roll of gauze from your pocket and extending a hand to them.

"Don't worry, I know what I'm doing. Didn't spend years patching people up for nothing." 

You raised an eyebrow, smiling crookedly at them. They shakily returned the smile, extending their arm. You examined the cut a moment, gently rubbing the blood away. 

"Good news is it shouldn't get infected, from the looks of it. Hold still for me, this might hurt a little." They winced when you tightly wound the gauze around the wound, then relaxed slightly as you secured it in place with a small bit of medical tape. "There. See? Simple and easy." You rocked back on your heels, eyeing them a moment as you dusted your hands off. "So. What's your name, buddy?"

"F-Frisk. Thank you." 

You smiled, and lightly ruffled their hair. "Just doing my job. Now, I don't want to scare you, but this place can be pretty dangerous. Would you like to stick with me? I've picked up a thing or two about getting around monsters." 

You couldn't help but chuckle a little when they nodded vigorously, and extended your hand. They quickly gripped it in their own, and you straightened, turning to the forest path. If you continued this way, you might run into that skeleton- his name started with an S?- again, and your tricks might not work twice... You steered them to pace alongside the rock wall, catching their confused glance.

"Safer this way. Robert Frost once said, 'Two paths diverged in a wood, and I, I took the one less traveled by, and that has made all the difference.' He may not have had meant this one specifically, but it works, eh?"

The kid laughed, nodding. There was something like curiosity in their gaze, like they were interested to see where this was going, as if they'd already tried the forest path at some point and this was a welcome change. But that was ridiculous. 

"Alright, I don't exactly have a lot, but are you hungry?"

They shook their head, then lifted their bag for you to see. You couldn't help but laugh. It was absolutely full of the candy you'd seen in the Ruins; hopefully none of it was poisoned.

"Well, as good that as is, I'm pretty sure you can't live off candy forever."

You snickered when they pouted, as if they were trying to say 'Watch me,' but you dropped it there. No need to freak them out by telling them you hadn't actually eaten properly since you'd fallen down here- you'd only had a bite of Toriel's pie, which you'd quickly brought up again when you realized there was something not quite right about it. 

"You tired, buddy?"

When they nodded, you dropped their hand and gently took the lantern from their hand then knelt in front of them. When they hesitated, you laughed under your breath.

"Buddy, I've been carrying people on stretchers up and down stairs for a large portion of my life. You're nothing. Climb on."

After another moment, they wrapped their arms around your neck. You tucked their legs up under your arms and jostled them slightly as you stood, smiling when they squeaked quietly.

"Hanging on tight back there? Who knows, I might just drop you by mistake..."

They nodded vigorously, making you chuckle.

"Im kidding. Come on, let's see if we can find somewhere safe to hide out. Keep quiet, okay? Not to scare you or anything, but I don't exactly run my fastest with a kid on my back." They nodded again and you set off at a careful pace. "Keep an eye out for places that look like they could be safe to hide out in, okay? My eyesight ain't the best in the world, so if you see something in the distance, point it out to me."

"Okay."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have no idea how to write Horrortale. Just. A warning. Honestly. Like I have no idea how to do this. I know next to nothing about Horrortale. I apologize. This is just... My take on it?? I guess.
> 
> Um. I have no idea what I'm doing. I still don't know if I should continue this? If you have any ideas for,, like,, shit that should happen, leave something in the comments, I guess.


	3. The Wolf's Den

"You cold, buddy?"

Frisk shook their head, but you could see their teeth chattering. You sighed, slipping your heavy work jacket off and slipping it over their shoulders. They seemed hesitant to take it, but then nestled into the sturdy fabric and drew it further around themselves.

"You sleep for a bit, bud. I'll keep watch." 

They frowned, but nodded and huddled further into the corner of the small alcove in the cavern wall. You tried to ignore the cold nipping at the nicks in your shoulders, shuffling to stare out at the snow slowly drifting about outside. A few fell to land upon the floor of your temporary hide out, but melted quickly beside the small pile of dimly glowing embers. If only you'd touched up your fire making abilities...

You leaned against one wall of the shallow cave, absently running your fingers over a particularly sore scrape. A small part of you was wondering how Papyrus was holding up; he was the kindest creature you'd met down here, but that may have been due to shock... Still, a small part of you hoped he'd gotten to a doctor and had his fingers properly mended. From what you'd seen and understood, humans and monsters healed in entirely different ways. 

Your stomach made a low noise and you pressed a palm to it, trying to stifle the pangs in your gut. It had been hard to feed yourself when you were alone, but with a kid...

You glanced over at Frisk over your shoulder. You didn't know a lot about kids, and they seemed somewhat bothered by your sense of humor at times- 'Aren't you glad that's not us? Ha ha,' as you passed a large smear on the underground's stone wall- but so far they seemed... Okay. Not very happy, but you couldn't blame them. Games of tic-tac-toe could only get you so far in the morale department. You'd told them a few stories of odd things you'd seen on the job- once you lost a boot to a dog half the size of the boot itself-, but it was hard to think happily in this place. Everything screamed doom. 

You were so sick and tired of this place already. You were so close to just throwing a punch at the next monster in some attempt to get them to get the picture- you weren't food, and you weren't going to give up so easily. Especially not with a kid now more or less depending on you. 

You absently caught a particularly large snowflake on your finger, wincing at its sting, then sucked the melted drop of moisture away. If you never saw another snowflake again once you got to the surface, you'd be perfectly happy.

Night was falling. You stood on sore ankles- you'd not seen the stone in the snow, and had nearly rolled your ankle before quickly righting yourself again- and dusted off your hands before moving to push the large, round stone back in place so that it hid the more obvious part of your hiding spot. It bit into your hands, and you nearly slipped trying to get it to move, ripping part of the bandages wrapped around your hands, but you pushed and shoved and huffed until it ground into place. That done, you slipped into the remaining gap and set yourself in such a position that, if so much as anything passed by, you'd be see it clear as day. 

Soon, the snowflakes turned into dark gray specs against an even darker background of white noise. It hurt your eyes to look at, but the shadows dimly flickering by the light of your tiny fire kept you edgy and alert. Hopefully, it would be a quiet night. 

 

Sans was getting edgy. Jumpy, almost. Frisk should've shown up days ago. He'd waited in those blasted woods for hours after hearing the door open, but they didn't come walking along to greet him as they usually did. He'd heard talking, then nothing. Nothing. Nothing. When he'd gone to investigate, he'd found not one pair of footprints- but two. 

That other human was still alive. That shouldn't happen. It was messing up the timeline. But there was nothing he could do about it. Maybe this was just another anomaly. Maybe it would pass. Maybe everything would fall into place when they died or something. Frisk was smart. They normally got past the monsters of Snowdin. They would fall back in rhythm whenever that other human died. Right?

"DO YOU THINK WE'LL SEE A HUMAN TODAY, SANS?"

"dunno, bro."

Sans shambled slowly alongside his lanky sibling, ignoring the small hills of fresh snow he was pushing in front of his shoes. One day, same as the last. No sign of Frisk. No sign of the other human. He tried to keep a scowl off his face. 

"PERHAPS WE WILL MEET THAT ODD MONSTER! I HAVEN'T SEEN THEM IN A WHILE."

"maybe, bro."

Sans had already brought up the idea that maybe that 'odd monster' Papyrus had seen was actually a human, but his brother simply refused to believe it. 'Humans are small and very easily scared! That's what Undyne told me. The odd monster was not scared of the great and terrific Papyrus at all! And if they were human, they'd be very scared- I am terrifying, after all!' he'd proclaimed. All Sans could do was stifle a sigh. 

"doesn't look like there are any in your traps, bro. we should be heading back soon."

The words had no sooner left his mouth than voices drifted from up ahead. For a moment, Sans couldn't believe his luck.

"You're, uh, pretty good at these puzzles, buddy. Be careful. Don't want you getting your leg stuck in something. Come on, I don't want you messing around with those anymore. Hop on."

"Awww." 

"Come on, hang on tight."

Papyrus tilted his head curiously, then lumbered forward slightly faster, Sans at his heels. The taller skeleton paused at a bend in the path, expression brightening and jaw falling open in a open-mouthed grin, dark drool sticking to his teeth. 

"AH! HELLO, STRANGE MONSTER!" 

Sans stepped around his sibling and stopped, still not quite believing it. There you stood, gaze infinitely cautious when it met his own before flicking back to the larger skeleton. Perched near your hip, arms wound around your shoulders, was Frisk, eyeing the skeletons frightfully. Whether it was because they were actually afraid of the brothers or frightened for your safety, Sans couldn't tell. 

"Uh, hey, Papyrus. How're your fingers doing? Didn't fall off again, did they?"

Sans caught Frisk's faintly confused glance directed your way as Papyrus sat in the snow, then lifted his hands as if to show them off. "NOPE! THEY ARE STILL ATTACHED!"

"That's good. Uh, hey... other skeleton whose name I can't recall."

Papyrus tilted his head at an odd angle to glance at his shorter, rather tense brother. "YOU'VE MET THEM?"

"Sans."

You dipped your head a fraction, shifting the kid in your arm. Everything about you was very careful- even more so than when he'd last seen you. Then again, you weren't just looking after your self now; obviously, you had taken Frisk under your wing. Sans tried not to be too obviously annoyed. 

"Well, nice seeing you, but, uh, we've got to... go." You edged sideways a fraction, toward the tree line at the side of the path. Papyrus tilted his head curiously.

"SO SOON? I WANTED TO INVITE YOU OVER FOR DINNER!" Papyrus' gaze shifted to Frisk, still huddled in your grasp. "IT SEEMS YOU ALREADY CAUGHT A HUMAN, TOO!"

"Um." A bead of sweat rolled down the side of your face. "They are... my sister's... child?" One eye crinkled up as you made a slight face; Sans could have laughed at how bad you were at lying, but stifled it when Papyrus seemed to think it over.

"THAT MEANS... YOU ARE EITHER ALSO A HUMAN... OR NEITHER OF YOU ARE HUMANS..." He seemed to be mulling it over in his head, long claws tapping the ground thoughtfully. You seemed to swallow, glancing away briefly.

"Uh... Yes. Certainly... one of those things."

"WHICH ONE, THEN?"

"Uh... One of... them."

While Frisk shot you a look that practically screamed 'really?', Papyrus turned his head to look at Sans again.

"WHAT DO YOU THINK, BROTHER?"

"i'm pretty sure they're humans, Pap."

"THEN THAT WOULD MEAN... WE WOULD HAVE TO EAT BOTH OF THEM." Papyrus still sounded thoughtful, as if he couldn't decide what he wanted to do. You shifted on your feet nervously.

"Um, you don't want to do that!"

Papyrus focused on you again, still curious. "WHY NOT?"

"Um, Frisk has... diseases." You shot them an apologetic look when they gave an indignant glare. "So, even if they were human, you wouldn't want to eat them. Heavens knows what it would do to you." 

"OH. WELL, THAT WOULD MEAN WE COULD ONLY EAT YOU THEN."

"Uh, I am... also sick!" When Papyrus narrowed an eye at you, you glanced around frantically for a moment. "I have, uh... depression. That's- uh- caused by a chemical imbalance in the brain. So... My brains are also not good to eat. And... the brain... powers everything else, so if the brain isn't good... nothing else is either...? So, even if I was a human, which I may or may not be, I am not... good to eat. Might make you sick, too, for all we know." 

You were a terrible liar. Sans could have slapped himself across the face for it if it weren't for his brother's own gullibility. 

"OH. WELL, I SUPPOSE THAT SETTLES IT, THEN. EVEN IF YOU WERE HUMANS, WE COULD NOT EAT YOU, SO WE MIGHT AS WELL TAKE CARE OF YOU UNTIL YOU ARE EDIBLE! RIGHT, SANS?"

"makes sense to me, bro."

"Uh, no! You don't have to do that. We can take care of ourselves. Even if we were humans. Which... we might not be. Most likely." 

"WELL, EVEN IF YOU AREN'T HUMANS, YOU CAN COME WITH US AND ENJOY DINNER!" 

"Uh, no, no, we're good-"

"sounds like a good idea to me."

"We're really fine-"

"I INSIST!"

You made a face, shifting from one foot to the other uncomfortably. After a moment, Frisk slid from your grasp, despite your next to silent protests. They stood hesitantly beside you for several moments, then paced carefully forward and extended their hand.

"My name is Frisk."

Papyrus blinked, then grinned. Sans saw you stiffen, looking ready to charge forward and tackle someone if something bad happened. "I AM THE GREAT AND TERRIFIC PAPYRUS!" 

The kid's hand disappeared in his own, and the child jittered in place as he shook their hand vigorously. When Papyrus released them, they turned to Sans and extended their hand. There was something guarded about their gaze, but he felt they were trying to warn him away from doing something to set the timeline as it should be. After a moment, he shook their hand stiffly.

"Sans." 

He would never get used to reintroducing himself each and every time they came back.

With that, they trotted back to you. You seemed to have a quick and hushed argument, you hissing almost angrily, Sans just catching Frisk's 'What could go wrong during one little dinner?' and your next to furious 'Everything!' A few minutes later, you sighed and dragged a hand through your messy hair. 'Alright, but if we die, don't go blaming me in the afterlife.'

You stood to your full height, eyeing the skeletons- Sans especially, he noticed- suspiciously. "Alright. One quick dinner. Then we'll be on our way and hopefully you'll never see us again." 

Papyrus either didn't catch the last part or didn't care, because he brightened and pushed himself into a four-legged standing position. "WOWIE! I'VE MADE TWO NEW FRIENDS! COME, SANS! LET US SHOW THEM THE MOST TERRIFIC OF DINNERS!" 

With that, he scooped Frisk up, dropped them on his back, then went loping back toward town. Sans watched a look of alarm flash across your face before you went racing after them, shouting something along the lines of 'Hey, slow down! Not all of us have legs as long as yours around here, mister giraffe on stilts!'

Sans stood there a moment, watching after you, then followed. Maybe if he went slowly enough, he could think something to do with you before he reached the house...

 

You lurked awkwardly between the two monsters as they made their way through town, tense and cautious as a rabbit in a wolf's den. You were in nothing but a thin, buttoned up shirt, having tossed Frisk your jacket as soon you entered town. It hid them well, but the action apparently left you feeling both cold and exposed. Sans did not offer you his jacket.

You seemed to be trying your damnedest to look both casual but keep your guard up, radiating something akin to anxiety. When Papyrus pointed out the house to you, you almost looked relieved for a moment, then the tenseness in your shoulders returned as you cast another furtive glance around. Tense as a rabbit in a wolf's den.

You shuffled your feet awkwardly as Papyrus fumbled with the door before ducking inside, Frisk crouching to avoid hitting the doorframe. You glanced at Sans, meeting his gaze for a moment. You raised an eyebrow at him almost skeptically before breaking your gaze away to step hesitantly into the skeleton's home. 

"Uh... Nice place, I guess." 

Frisk slid from Papyrus back, passing you your coat. Despite, you didn't put it on right away, looking around slowly. You looked almost caught off guard. Sans loitered beside the doorway, watching your gaze flicker over the cracked television, stained sofa, then the stairs, then back to the kitchen. Your nose seemed to wrinkle slightly at the stains splashing the floors and walls. 

"Uh, looks like your kitchen use a good scrub, eh?" 

Papyrus either didn't hear or didn't care as he scrambled inside, then stood up properly on two feet. He had to lean down to peer at you and Frisk, still lingering side by side in the living room. "JOIN ME, FRISK, AND I WILL LET YOU WATCH THE GREAT AND TERRIFIC PAPYRUS WORK!" 

You instantly clapped a hand down on Frisk's shoulder. "Uh, I don't think that's a good idea." 

"I INSIST!"

You made a face as Frisk slipped out from beneath your hand, and made to follow them into the kitchen. You jumped when Sans' own hand fell upon your shoulder, and he noticed your expression stiffen slightly as if you were forcing some expression back. You shot him a look sharp as flint, and he noticed you quickly eye both of his hands as if looking for a weapon. When you apparently found none, you narrowed your eyes at him suspiciously. 

"hey, Pap. i'm gonna take this one out to the shed."

"DO NOT LOITER! DINNER WILL BE READY SOON." 

You looked ready to refuse, then let out a small huff of air, letting Sans steer you toward the door. You paused, slipping into your coat half heartedly, zipping it up as you stepped out into the snow and drawing up the hood before turning back to him. Oddly enough, you followed him without protest when he silently led the way to the shed, then headed inside the dark space when he held the door open for you.

You were quick to put space between you, however, as soon as he turned on the light, soon in the corner beside the work bench. He noticed you scan the tools there before lifting a foot and placing it at the lip of the table's edge, leaning over and retying the laces of your boot casually. 

For a while, neither of you said anything. You tied the laces in a careful knot, Sans watched you, trying to work out what to do in his head. Frisk might not forgive him if he just killed you. They seemed attached. Maybe if he made it look like an accident... You straightened after a moment, leaning against the wall behind you, keeping your leg propped up absently. You raised your eyebrows at him as if to say 'Well?'

"you shouldn't be here." He finally said, narrowing one socket at you when you rolled your eyes lightly.

"Yeah, tell me something new. You know, I thought you of all creatures would be kind of glad to have me down here, considering you guys, y'know, eat humans. Or, if you meant the shed, that's on you. You're the one that brought me out here." 

So you were either playing dumb or you weren't aware of the fact that you were messing up the timeline. A large part of him was betting on the latter. You plucked a strand of hair from your coat and let it flutter to the floor. 

"Frisk should be alone."

You snorted. "What, you think stress gives us a better taste or something? I don't think me being around has lowered their stress levels much. Hey, you want stress, just eat me instead. That should sooth your needs."

You were being sassier than your first meeting, but then again, you looked like you'd been dragged through barbed wire backwards for five straight nights. You nibbled on a nail for a moment, then dropped your hand, holding his gaze for a while. Finally, you sighed.

"Look, if you're gonna kill me, can you at least make it quick? I don't wanna know what weird torture devices you have in here. At least use them on my corpse or something."

Sans could have laughed. Half the point of torture devices was that the person was alive during the process. "i'm not the type to do the killing."

You scoffed. "Oh, I'm sure." You lifted a chain attached to a bear trap, pointedly raising an eyebrow at him. For a moment, you seemed to think something over, eyes studying his face carefully. "Here, I'll cut you a deal. You can do whatever weird form of torture you want on me and I'll play along just fine so long as you spare Frisk."

He was almost impressed, but part of him wanted to point out that you weren't exactly in any position to be making bargains. For a while, he was silent. You looked over the different array of old tools, though he noticed you keeping him in your sights. You ran a finger along the stained edge of some blade, then examined the dark substance that flaked off on your thumb. You raised an eyebrow, but didn't seem disgusted. Again, he found himself wondering what exactly you did on the surface. Perhaps you'd been a killer, as he'd first suspected. But then... Why would you protect Frisk? Or spare him, or help Papyrus...

"you shouldn't be alive." He tried again. You sighed, looking tired and annoyed. Mostly annoyed.

"Yeah, I know. Look, I'm just a regular joe trying to get home. I have a job, I have a life that I'd like to get back to. I'd rather not die, okay? Sue me for it." Hm. He watched you pluck at a rugged bandage wound around your wrist, hissing under your breath. "I know it may be a lot to ask, considering, but I'd rather not get eaten. I always kinda figured I'd live long enough to die in my sleep or something. Y'know, like any regular human being would prefer?"

You glanced up, meeting his gaze for a moment. Whatever you saw didn't please you. You sighed, 'tsk'ing under your breath. 

"Who am I kidding... Listen, deal or not? Or are you just gonna stare at me until I spontaneously combust or something?" You extended your hand, raising an eyebrow as you straightened, standing on both feet now.

Sans stared at the scraped, rugged hand for a few long moments, then studied your face again. You raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. He was still surprised by your fearlessness. Maybe you wore a good mask. Or maybe you were beyond caring about anything beyond you and Frisk surviving. Maybe you were just that brave. So many maybes. 

He'd... figure something out later. He did put the 'pro' in procrastination, after all.

"like i said, i'm not the killin' type. i'd rather clean up the mess after the damage's already done. however, you put one foot out of line..." He blinked his sockets empty, not even faintly surprised when all you did was raise an eyebrow slightly at the slight change. "you'll be dead where you stand." 

He blinked again and looked at you a moment as you seemed to mull his words over, narrowing your eyes at him skeptically. Then he turned and opened the door to the shed again. 

"now c'mon. Pap's gonna be waiting, and he's not very patient when he's hungry."

You followed him out without a word, keeping a safe distance between you. You plucked at a chip in the paint as he opened the door, then ducked inside the house before he followed. You stepped hastily toward the kitchen, not bothering to shed your coat. 

"AH! SANS! STRANGE MONSTER! DINNER IS READY!"

You gripped the back of your chair for several moments, glancing at Frisk then at one of the windows as if contemplating escape, before you sat with obvious hesitance. Frisk was already seated in the chair to your right, swinging their legs idly. You traced grooves and cuts in the old, stained table as Papyrus tottered to and fro, either ignoring Sans or not deeming him worthy of a threat.

When Papyrus lowered a plate below your nose, Sans watched you back up a fraction in what almost looked like surprise. You studied the pile of mush, hair, and runny sauce for several long moments, but Sans didn't notice any disgust cross your face even as a bit of pale flesh broke the soupy surface. Papyrus stared at you expectantly, and his demeanor slowly changed from eager to sour. 

"WELL? ARE YOU GOING TO EAT OR NOT?"

"Can't." The word fell easily from your lips, but you only glanced up from the food for a moment, meeting Papyrus' gaze as a bead of sweat ran down the side of your face. If you kept this up, perhaps Papyrus would kill you. That'd be an easy enough solution.

"AND WHY NOT?" Papyrus' sockets turned darker and emptier, screaming of doom to come. A trickle of drool ran down his jaw, dark brown in color. "DO YOU THINK YOU ARE ABOVE MY COOKING? IS IT NOT TO YOUR TASTES?" 

"I'm... allergic... to human." You met Papyrus' gaze steadfastly, but your fingers tapped at the table top in an almost jittery manner. You were such a terrible liar, holy hell. If Papyrus fell for that...

"OH." Papyrus seemed surprised, but his menacing demeanor vanished in an instant. "WHY DIDN'T YOU SIMPLY SAY SO?" He brightened, scooping up your plate and lifting it away again. "I CAN FIX YOU SOMETHING WITH A SUBSTITUTE LATER! IT IS NOT SO GOOD, BUT THE GREAT AND TERRIFIC PAPYRUS' COOKING ALWAYS EXCEEDS EXPECTATIONS!"

When Papyrus went to lower a plate down in front of Frisk, you slammed an arm down in front of them before he could, a rushed "Do not" escaping your mouth. Another trickle of sweat ran down your neck when Papyrus' threatening look flickered into existence again.

"They are... also... allergic to human. It... runs in the family." 

For a moment, nothing happened. You slouched halfway across the table, blocking Papyrus from putting the food down, in a very awkward looking pose, Papyrus stared at you, Sans groaned internally at his brother's gullibility, and Frisk stared at you as if you had a screw loose. Finally, Papyrus smiled again and cackled good heartedly before seating himself awkwardly and sliding Sans' food his way. 

For a long time, Sans didn't touch his food. Just tried to glare a hole in the side of your head. You twiddled your thumbs for a while, glancing absently at the flies buzzing around the light fixtures, before you met his gaze. You held his gaze for a while, then shrugged one shoulder as if to say 'What can ya do?' He narrowed his sockets further, then turned to his meal.

It was an incredibly awkward dinner.

 

"Welp, it was, uh... something, seeing you guys' house, and, uh, thanks for the... ramen? But we've really gotta get going." 

You edged backwards toward the door, half dragging Frisk with you as you held a firm grip on their shoulder, other hand fingering the square, plastic package shoved into your coat pocket. You couldn't seem to figure out if you should focus on Papyrus or Sans, so you glanced between them regularly. Papyrus wilted like a sad puppy, which you didn't seem to even bat an eye at, but Sans sat heavily on the sofa, easily taking up half the space that could have comfortably sat three humans. 

"you sure you should be going so soon?" He could have chuckled at the suddenly sharp and cautious and skeptical look you focused on him. As it was, his enormous jaw twitched in the beginning of a smile. "not sure that's safe for... creatures such as yourselves." 

Realization seemed to glint in your eyes, quickly followed by frustration. You flung yourself toward the nearest window and yanked the blinds open in the middle, peering into the darkness. 

Several sets of eyes gleamed out there in the blackness. 

You swore softly, and raised your fist slightly as if to hit something. You stopped, forced a deep breath, then turned back stiffly as Papyrus seemed to catch on to Sans' idea.

"YOU CAN STAY HERE FOR THE NIGHT! IT WILL BE LOADS OF TERRIFIC FUN!" 

You drew a long, deep breath. "Yeah, I'm sure." You drew a hand over your face, but when you opened your eyes again, your gaze was focused on Sans, peeved and tired all at once. For a moment, he almost thought he saw a bit of himself in that look. "But I guess I don't have much choice, do I?"

"nope. make yourselves comfortable."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long ass chapter for your horrortale needs
> 
> Btw: resets in this fic work like,, if Frisk dies, they get sent all the way back to the beginning. Falling down is basically their only save point, throughout the entire underground. That's how this works, I guess.
> 
> Readerisphoneguyconfirmed
> 
> ,,,
> 
> I'm so tired,,
> 
> Forgive me.
> 
> Still not sure what I'm doing. Send ideas or things you'd like to see my way, if you want.


	4. Sleep

The look that flashed across your face when Papyrus suggested Frisk sleep in his room was vaguely of panic. You quickly drew the child slightly away from Papyrus by the shoulder, taking a stance similar to a protective parent. Papyrus cocked his head curiously at you, earning a twitching in your free hand. 

"Uh, we can sleep on the couch. We'll be fine there." The look on Frisk's face suggested they would be perfectly happy sleeping in an actual bed and not on the lumpy sofa, but you pointedly ignored their look as Papyrus frowned pitifully, wilting yet again. 

"BUT I WAS LOOKING FORWARD TO HAVING A SLEEPOVER HANGOUT IN MY ROOM..." Papyrus' head drooped, and if he had a bottom lip, it would have been jutting out. Your resolve twitched.

You had been looking strained as the night wore on, standing idly by the table beside the door while Frisk and Papyrus played some puzzle game, your fingers tapping out rhythms Sans didn't recognize. In the gaunt light of the lamp, the dark marks of dirt and scrapes on your cheeks stood out against the paler surface of your skin, and Sans could practically count the shadows under your eyes. From what he'd seen of humans, it seemed you hadn't slept properly in a long time. Could humans die from lack of sleep...? That'd be a pretty easy solution.

All in all, you looked like a mess. A tense, cautious, but rather sleep-deprived mess. 

You, Frisk, and Papyrus squabbled back and forth for a moment, and the next time Sans glanced up, Papyrus was loping up the stairs with the back of Frisk's shirt clamped between his teeth like some kind of overgrown puppy. You looked frustrated and anxious, crossing your arms and drumming your fingers against your arm as the duo disappeared into the room at the top of the stairs. You seemed to listen intently for a moment as voices drifted through the door, then sighed and turned, jumping with you nearly walked smack into Sans. 

You quickly side stepped away from him and put some distance between you, eyeing him cautiously. You took up a place beside the table again, leaning back against it. Still, your fingers drummed on.

Sans contemplated what to do with you. Let you spend the night wearing yourself thin? Tell you to sleep on the couch? Or mess with you a bit?

You shot him a look as if prompting him to leave, looking much less casual and much more pissed now that Frisk and Papyrus were out of the room.

Third option it is.

"y'know, if the kid is gonna sleep in Pap's room, you're free to sleep in mine." 

You looked faintly surprised, eyebrows raising a bit before your eyelids dropped to give him a 'you're kidding' look. "Not a chance." 

"c'mon, be a pal. couches for sitting, not for sleepin.'" He stifled a chuckle when your nose wrinkled the slightest. 

"You must think I'm real idiot, huh, 'pal'? And even if you were being genuine- don't make me laugh-, what makes you think I'd even be able to fit on a bed beside you, anyway? Have you seen yourself? You're built like a tank. If you can take up half a couch on your own I highly doubt even a king sized bed could fit you comfortably beside anyone of any size." You rambled for a minute, rolling your eyes and plucking at a loose string on your coat twitchily. 

"fine. your loss." He chuckled as he heard you scoff, ascending the stairs and disappearing into his room a moment later. With a snap of his fingers, it got noticeably darker downstairs, quickly followed by a stifled yelp from you, making him laugh lowly. He heard the lamp click several times before you cursed softly, followed by silence. 

 

The underground got very dark at night.

For humans, this was a hindrance. From what Sans could tell, humans' night sight was... poor. Very, very poor. For monsters, that was an advantage! Monsters, having spent so long in the dark, ended up developing a sense of sight designed entirely to work just as well in the dark as it did in the light. 

So Sans had no trouble checking up on you in the dead of the night. 

He had waited an hour or so before silently making his way to the landing outside his door, leaning over the railing to peer into the very still living room. It didn't take long to spot you. You were pacing back and forth down the length of the room, seemingly trying to keep yourself occupied.

It took him a moment to pick up on it, but after a minute he realized you were muttering to yourself- low enough that he couldn't quite catch the words, no matter how he strained to. After a while, you stopped hissing under your breath and began to hum- yet another rhythm Sans didn't recognize. Must have been from the surface. 

"Am I the only I know- waging my wars above my face and behind my... Shit." You stopped your pacing, furiously scratching at your hair before smoothing it half heartedly. 

You glanced around for a moment, then began to grope around in the dark. You found the t.v. remote and picked it up, running a thumb over the buttons. You glanced up, seemingly contemplating the television, but in the end you lowered it again. You lifted the cushions on the sofa and felt under there, picking up a single gold coin and holding it up to the thin, gray light that was your only hope of seeing anything until daylight. You flipped it in your hand a few times, then put it on the table beside the couch absently. You found the flip-blade Sans had lost ages ago, and seemed to contemplate stuffing it in your poker before hesitantly placing it beside the gold coin. You found a sock and wrinkled your nose at it- whether it was because it was so filthy or over the fact that it had been in the couch for ages, Sans didn't know. You threw it over your shoulder, hands dancing along the edges and seems of the busted couch once again. You found a place where the fabric had split, and felt the stuffing beneath your fingers for several long minutes as if recalling something. Your expression softened the slightest before you drew your hand back. You felt something that leafed against your fingers and paused, then tugged it out from its hiding place. You held it up to the light, narrowing your eyes at it for several moments before your eyebrows shot up. An instant later, a 'wow, really?' look graced your features, and you dropped the magazine back onto the sofa and hid it haphazardly under the cushions once more. 

You walked around and about some more, straining to see into the darkness. Sans was beginning to get bored of it when you nearly tripped and finally decided to take a seat on the sofa, still glancing around periodically. You began to mutter, clearer this time. He focused, trying to pick it up-

"Cervical above the thoracic, thoracic above the lumbar, lumbar above the sacrum, sacrum above the coccyx, coccyx below the..."

Were you... naming the different segments of the vertebral column? He scratched at his jaw. Huh. You were proving to be stranger than he thought, which was... REALLY saying something. 

You went on and on for a while, mumbling different bones- from legs to fingers to toes- and what they attached to. After a long time of waiting for you to do something interesting, Sans realized what you were trying to do: Stay awake. 

You had your head tilted the slightest, as if listening for something. Specifically, you had your head tilted toward the stairs. You must have been trying to keep an ear out for Frisk, in case they were danger. Maybe you were just a regular joe, like you said. A regular joe trying to look after your own kind, even if it cost you your own comfort and risked your health.

Sans felt a flicker of respect for you, but just as quickly snuffed it out. 

Your fingers had momentarily stopped their tapping to fumble around a singular part of your upper arm, rubbing in tentative circles. With you still wearing your coat, Sans couldn't tell what it was you were feeling for, but guessed it was an injury of some sort when you prodded it and made a pained face. Your hand moved away and dragged at your eyelids, you murmuring under your breath once more- this time sounding like some kind of procedure to open an airway? He couldn't catch all the words.

After a while, Sans got bored and meandered back into his room. But... something was nagging at him. Something kept him awake, no matter how still he laid, no matter how long he waited. For what felt like an eternity, he stared up at the ceiling. He could hear Papyrus' snuffling in the other room, letting him know he was long asleep. He could just barely hear your smaller sounds from downstairs, coming and going as you pleased (he silently thanked himself for knowing how to enhance his hearing with simple magic). 

Finally, he gave up and got up again as your sounds stopped or dropped so low he couldn't catch them. No, you were still there, sitting on the sofa, now hunched over with the heels of your palms digging into your eyes. You breathed a deep sigh, and when you fell back, staring blankly at the ceiling, Sans realized how hard you must have been fighting to stay awake. Everything about you read 'stressed and ready to snap'. Also 'tired'. 'Very tired.' After a time, you drew your knees up to tuck them close to your chest and wrapped your arms over the top of them, scooting further into the corner of the sofa.

Your eyes drifted shut several times, staying closed for longer periods of time before your head would jerk and you would open them again. Several times, you muttered to yourself, "Stay awake, damn it, you've done worse than this," but you sounded almost defeated by the time the words stopped coming altogether. 

You blinked into the darkness for several minutes before your eyes drifted shut and your breathing noticeably changed. The change in your posture was immediate- your shoulders fell slack, your arms, propped up on your knees, relaxed, and your hands and neck fell limp, your head slouching more heavily against your arms. Sans loitered for several moments, wondering if you would wake up again, then went back to his room and fell haphazardly on his mattress. 

Only then did sleep overcome him

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ???? 
> 
> Idk what this chapter is and I apologize if it's bad,, i still have no idea what I'm doing,,
> 
> If you have comments, questions, concerns, drop them into the comments I guess? If you want. You don't have to.


	5. Resolve

You looked very different when you slept. 

While your usual expression was hard and blocked off and guarded and warning and somehow lax all at once, all of that melted away when the muscles fell slack. You looked... smaller. More like what he was used to, so to speak. Softer, maybe. Gentler, even? 

Your eyelids flickered as your chest rose and fell beneath your coat, your cheek pressed into your arms snuggly. Your expression scrunched up for a moment when Sans sat heavily on the other end of the couch, arm nearly brushing you as he did, but you didn't wake. Rather, you nestled further into the crook of your own body, sighing contentedly. Pressed into the corner of the couch like that, you actually looked... relaxed. Still, for once.

Frisk giggled as they passed, raising their eyebrows at Sans as they titled their head in your direction. Sans chuckled quietly right back, shrugging halfheartedly. Shaking their head, Frisk trotted hastily into the kitchen. 

The sounds of Frisk and Papyrus making something 'human-free' for breakfast didn't wake you, though Sans noticed Papyrus trying not to bang pots and pans around quite so loudly. Sans was preparing to doze off himself when your breathing shifted- not quite so slow and even. 

Your fingers twitched, and you blinked your eyes open. It apparently took a moment for things to came into focus, but when they did, a look of panic quickly flashed across your face and you launched yourself sideways and away from Sans, promptly toppling over the arm of the couch and landing loudly on the floor with a muffled curse. 

Papyrus and Frisk both appeared in the kitchen doorway as Sans shook with laughter, Frisk looking concerned and Papyrus looking surprised, then angry.

"SANS! I THOUGHT WE AGREED NOT TO WAKE THE TALLER STRANGE MONSTER!"

Frisk quickly trotted up to you, wringing their hands as you sat up, clutching the back of your head, face twisted in either anger or pain. They asked you lowly if you were alright, and you flapped a hand absently.

"I'm alright. Just... Startled me." You didn't meet Sans' gaze as you lifted yourself up by the arm of the couch, only to sink down to the floor again. "I need a minute. Stand up now and I'll make it worse. I'm fine, I just hit my head a little harder than I thought." 

Frisk raised their hands as if to feel your scalp for injuries and you chuckled, pushing their hands down again. They frowned and grabbed your head stubbornly, making you bend down so they could leave a peck where they must have assumed it hurt. When you pulled back, you looked surprised more than anything. Then you blinked, laughed, and ruffled their hair. 

"Not sure that was the most hygienic thing to do, considering I haven't showered in a while, but I appreciate the gesture, buddy. Now, help me to my feet, will ya?" 

You put a hand on the couch's arm again, but pointedly leaned most of your weight on Frisk's shoulder, making them puff and stagger under the weight. You laughed before standing properly on two feet and dusting off your hands. For a moment during that exchange, you and Frisk both looked... genuinely happy. At ease amongst each other. It was an expression Sans wasn't sure he'd ever seen on Frisk's face.

"Welp. I am certainly glad I didn't... die in my sleep. Or anything. Wish you'd woken me sooner, though." You patted Frisk's hair absently. You rolled your neck, closed one eye, then the other, then planted your hands on your hips. "Well, hate to crash and run, but we should really get going now." 

Frisk pouted, crossing their arms defiantly. You patted their head in some kind of reassurance, then turned to face Sans at last. There was something like resentment that flashed in your eyes for a split second, but just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone. You studied his gaze carefully, as if trying to get a gauge on him. All he did was smile back.

"you sure that's a smart idea?" 

Your expression fell slightly, and you turned to a window in what looked like exasperated defeat. Outside, snow fell in heavy sheets, obliterating anything three feet from the front of your face. You groaned so quietly Sans almost didn't catch it, letting your head fall to rest on the windowsill for a moment. Then you were turning, resolve as strong as ever. It seemed sleep had revived some of your old determination.

"Well. Seeing as we spent a night in here and did not die, I would have to consider staying here the safest option for now, unless we wanted to be frozen to death, which, for my understanding, is not a pleasurable way to die. But I have a feeling I really don't have a choice anyway, eh, jaws?"

You raised your eyebrows at Sans in a way that made him realize the nickname was directed at him. He narrowed his eye sockets at you. Did you think this was some kind of game? He opted not to answer your question, allowing his peeved silence to be enough of an answer. 

He huffed when Frisk snickered at his reaction to the nickname, then raised a brow bone as Frisk waved you down and whispered something to you. 'Yeah, and what's your reasoning behind that?' More whispering from Frisk. 'Oh, yeah, if one got possessed by some bulldog's restless demon spirit.' Frisk giggled, then whispered something. 'You go ahead and do that, I'll be here trying to make sure I don't get my throat bitten out.' More snickering from Frisk as you walked over to the kitchen doorway, leaning against the frame as you asked Papyrus something about the breakfast he was making.

Sans shifted on the sofa as Frisk sat themselves beside him, scooting carefully backwards so that the ends of their feet barely dangled off the cushion. For a few minutes, the only sound was you attempting to instruct Papyrus on proper kitchenware hygiene, Frisk swinging their feet lightly. 

"I like them." They finally said, and for once, Sans felt they were trying to talk to him as someone who remembered rather than trying to pretend playing dumb so as to avoid the fact that he did, in fact, remember every try they'd gone through so far. 

Sans only grunted, still not liking the idea of you. Breaking his pattern. He liked things he could rely on- you were disturbing something he could rely on. He wanted things to go as they usually did. Not... this. 

Though, he did have to admit things did get boring, after a while.

"I think they just wanna protect people. They might even protect you, if you gave them the chance." Frisk tried again, bobbing their head gently from side to side. They seemed to be pondering if that had been the right choice of words.

"monsters like me don't need protectin'. besides, something gives me the feeling they wouldn't want to." Sans huffed out, sounding uncomfortably like a child who didn't get what they wanted for their birthday. 

"I guess, but that doesn't mean... they're not nice. Still, I like them. I think you might, too, if you gave them the chance." He was beginning to dislike that phrase.

"lettin' you stay, aren't i?"

Frisk sighed, sounding almost exasperated. They'd been becoming slowly more confident over time, and it seemed they had come to the conclusion that he wouldn't kill them this time. Which he wouldn't. How he hated being a softie for this scrap. 

"Sans, I know you don't like... changes, but..." Frisk was frowning down at their hands, voice very quiet now. "I think they're a good one. They might even help me get farther than before. But... In order for that to happen, they're gonna need to be... around. And... happier?" 

He knew what they were asking of him. 'Make the other human feel more welcome and safe.' He tried to relax his clenched jaw.

"no promises, kiddo."

Frisk frowned deeper, but didn't say anything more. They simply slid off the sofa and headed for the kitchen, tugging on the tail of your jacket to catch your attention. You glanced down, eyebrows raised, and Sans tuned in to the conversation.

"Hey, buddy. What's up? You done talking to jaws?"

Frisk snorted. "Yeah. He seems grumpy, but I think he's okay for today." It sounded like they were trying to reassure you. You muttered something that sounded like a 'if you say so,' but Papyrus' voice drowned you out.

"ARE YOU SURE BOILING IT WILL CLEANSE IT?"

"Pretty sure, buddy."

"HUH. IS THAT... A HUMAN TRADITION?"

"Um. Maybe."

"OH."

It was silent for a while. 

"Alright, now strain the water out using this. Wait, no, not in the middle of the floor. Over the sink. Put this over the sink basin, and then pour the noodles into it. Preferably. Okay?"

"OH, I UNDERSTAND NOW!" 

"See, you're getting the hang of it. You, uh, catch on fast."

"I AM FLATTERED, STRANGE MONSTER! OR HUMAN. ARE YOU SURE YOU'RE NOT A HUMAN?"

"Did you know you can throw the noodles at the wall to test how done it is? If it sticks, it's done. If it doesn't it still needs to be cooked for a bit."

"REALLY? DOES THAT WORK WITH HUMAN HAIR?"

"Um. I wouldn't know. You know, being... allergic. And all that. Can't even, uh, touch the stuff."

"I'LL HAVE TO TRY IT SOMETIME."

"Uh, you... do that."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Nfuchsjlsxncjxkx
> 
> This chapter feels... Bad
> 
> But whatever I guess. I'm just glad I actually wrote something lmao
> 
> Still taking ideas and prompts!! I,,, have no idea what I'm doing, so,,,


	6. Defining murder

"Ouch!"

"You okay there, bud? Whoops, well, all right, c'mere, hop on my shoulders."

Sans cracked an eye open, peering at the doorway to the kitchen. You, Frisk, and Papyrus had long since finished 'human-free breakfast', and you and Frisk had offered to clean up. Papyrus was still lingering about, clearly still trying to decipher whether you were actually a monster or not. There was rustling, followed by heavy footsteps.

"Alright, turn on the water and hold the burn under it for a minute or so. Hey, uh, Papyrus? You guys got any burn cream?" 

"BURN... CREAM?"

"Gonna take that as a no. Um, bandaids?"

"BANDAIDS...?"

"Um. Uh. Okay, um, could you... Hold Frisk up to the sink for me while I take a quick glance around? I mean, not sure I want them sitting up there with it so far from the ground?"

"OF COURSE!"

"Alright, you wait here. Don't go anywhere. Preferably."

There was the sound of several cabinets opening and closing, and what Sans could only assume was the bottles on top of the fridge being pushed around. You huffed, then paced quickly into the living room. You glanced around briefly, then made eye contact with Sans. For a moment, neither of you said anything.

"You guys have a bathroom?" You asked, surprisingly casual. Sans considered not answering you, then jerked a thumb in the direction of the room. You dipped your head slightly, then quickly walked over and flung the door open. 

The cabinet slammed open. There was rustling. Something snapped loudly. A mouse trap was tossed over your shoulder, landing a few feet from the door. You made a small, pleased noise. Something popped open. More rustling. You came bounding out of the bathroom, a small white box in your hands. 

"Alright, Papyrus, bring the kid in here. Yeah, sit right there and hold out your hand. How's it feel?" 

You gently took one of Frisk's hands, and Sans realized what all the fuss was about- an angry red mark glowed across several of their fingers, looking sore and tender. Frisk looked ready to cry, but it seemed like your calm helped keep them calm, as well? You turned their hand over a few times, eyeing the injury with an odd sort of look. It almost seemed both maternal and professional. 

"I-it doesn't hurt so much any more."

"That's good. Good news is, it isn't that bad. Should heal up in no time. This may sting at first, but it should feel cool after the bite." 

You quickly uncapped a small tube, squeezing a small drop onto your finger before smoothing it tenderly over the burns. Frisk flinched, but held a straight face as you rubbed the balm over the marks with both a sense of experience and of excruciating care. Sans wasn't sure what to make of it. Of you. It was as though this was what you were meant to be doing, or something you prided yourself in. 

You looked so sure. So resolute. So calm.

"Alright. How's that feel? Any better?"

"Y-yeah."

"I'm gonna wrap these up to make sure they don't get dirty, alright? They shouldn't get infected, but they'll heal quicker if they have a day or two to mend over before being exposed to everything. That alright, bud?"

"Yes."

"You're a real brave kid, you know that? I've seen older kids than you bawl over less than this." You ruffled their hair fondly, then clicked the white box shut. Frisk ducked their head, abashed, but smiled nonetheless. "You're all set, kiddo. Be careful for my sake, y'hear? Something tells me bandaids aren't a common thing around here."

Papyrus was peering over your shoulder at Frisk's bandaged fingers, head hanging over yours. Oddly enough, it seemed you didn't mind too much as you ducked out from beneath him and made your way to the bathroom, presumably to put the box back where you found it.

"IF THE SMALL STRANGE MONSTER IS HURT BY THE HEAT... DOES THAT MEAN THAT THEY ARE A HUMAN? UNDYNE ALWAYS SAID HUMANS WERE INCREDIBLY SOFT AND FRAGILE."

You paused briefly, as if choosing to hold your tongue. From the stiffness of your shoulders, you disagreed with that statement. Sans could have laughed. "Haven't you seen a monster be hurt by fire magic before?"

"OH. SO YOU ARE THAT SORT OF MONSTER?"

"Guess you could say that." You slipped into the bathroom, and came out dusting off your hands carefully. You did that a lot, Sans noted.

"speaking of humans, bro, shouldn't you be checking your traps? just cause it's snowing doesn't mean humans won't fall down."

Your eyes flashed of question and caution when you met Sans' gaze, but Papyrus brightened and loped toward the doors, narrowly missing Frisk as he did. 

"QUITE RIGHT, SANS! THE TERRIFIC PAPYRUS WILL RETURN SHORTLY."

The door swung loudly shut behind him, and silence hung thick as molasses in the air afterward. You eyed Sans a moment, seeming surprised that he hadn't stood up from his place on the sofa, then turned and gave Frisk a gentle pat on the back. 

"C'mon, let's go finish up those dishes. I'll handle the hot stuff this time, bud." 

Frisk smiled, nodding as they followed you into the kitchen.

 

By the time you came out, Sans had already made the decision to fake sleeping to see what you would do. You eyed him for a long time, eyes narrowing as you studied his face intently, trying to read whether he was awake or not. 

You edged out directly in front of him, and waved a hand. He didn't move. You waved both hands. He was still. You waved your arms above your head, and Sans had to fight not to chuckle at the ridiculous act. Finally, you seemed to decide he was asleep, and turned to Frisk with your fists on your hips.

"Alright, I think he's asleep. Oh, don't chuckle at me, you little weirdo. I'm not about to go and wave my hand in front of his face. I'd rather keep all my fingers, thanks. Plus he might sneeze on me or something. Plus his breath is pretty rank. Plus drool. Do I really have to go on?" You were keeping your voice relatively low, and Frisk hid giggles behind their hands. You seemed pleased that they had laughed. 

Then you knelt, putting your hands on their shoulders, suddenly serious. "I'm going to try and take a shower while he's out. If anything happens- if he so much as snorts in your direction, I want you to make some noise or get out of the way in any way you can. You hear? Self preservation, bud. Don't worry about me. I can take care of myself well enough. You get yourself out of harms way, and I'll be there ASAP. Understand?"

Frisk nodded, and while Sans knew that they knew he wouldn't hurt them, they seemed reassured by your presence, in a way. Perhaps touched that you were looking out for them.

"Alright. I'll be quick. Try not to wake jaws. Entertain yourself somehow. Try not to hurt yourself. I'm running out of bandages." 

You gave their shoulder a squeeze, then stood and made for the bathroom. You were in there for a minute, then you appeared again. You scrounged around for a bit, poking around doors left and right, and Sans halfway wanted to snarl you away. Still, you didn't seem to look in each consecutive room or closet for longer than was necessary, as if you were looking for something in particular. Finally, you dragged a towel out of a closet, then ducked into the bathroom once more. The door closed, but did not lock. 

By the time you came out, coat over one shoulder, hair in damp clumps and strands about your head, sleeves rolled up to your elbows, and generally looking noticeably cleaner, Frisk had gotten into the pens and papers Sans usually kept about for the exact purpose of keeping them entertained. You seemed surprised, but sat with your legs crossed on the floor beside them, looking faintly amused. 

"Looks like you got busy. Whatcha drawing there, bud?" Frisk lifted their hands away from the paper they were currently working on. "Oh, Toriel, huh? Yeah, she was, uh, fairly nice, I suppose. Compared to some other guys, I suppose."

Frisk nodded, then offered a paper to you. You chuckled, putting up your hands in mock surrender. "No, no. I don't draw. If I did now, you'd understand why." Frisk snickered, but seemed to accept that answer. 

For a while, you sat there on the floor together, you watching Frisk doodle, complimenting silly little things every so often, asking them if they were going to show this or that to Papyrus or 'jaws,' generally 'relaxing' in the surprisingly quiet and still atmosphere. Outside, the wind threw snowflakes against the windows. 

You looked better when there weren't pine needles in your hair or dirt and scrapes on your cheeks, Sans noticed. Maybe 'better' wasn't the word. Healthier. Pinker? Not so tired. It had served to wake you up, as well. Your shoulders looked less tense. Your smile more lax and less forced. The skin of your arms looked cleaner, but he could see yellowing bruises and dark, healing scratches here and there marring the skin. You had really fought to stay alive, in your own strange way, huh? You were... strong, in a certain way, Sans had to admit.

Sans wanted to stay awake, for the soul purpose of making sure you didn't try anything while he was sleeping, but eventually, the atmosphere got to him, too. He dozed off to the sound of pen on paper.

 

When he came to again, it was to roughly the same sight as to when he dozed off. The difference? You had found some old, silver wire somewhere and were now twisting and warping it with a pair of pliers, gently tweaking it into some intertwined, swooping, oddly graceful shape. It reminded Sans of both antlers and tree branches. 

It seemed you were playing a game of 'Have you ever'.

"Alright, bud, your turn. Have you ever... broken a bone?"

"I guess."

"You guess? What, you think a fracture doesn't count as a break?"

Frisk was quiet.

"Well, all right. Give me your worst."

"Have you ever... killed someone?"

The pause that followed was enough to make Sans' suspicions reawaken with a vengeance. You had fallen still, the wire stuck in a halfway bent pose. Then, you chuckled, though it was very hollow.

"Uh... Depends on your definition of killing." 

There was another pause. Frisk was looking at you now. You lowered the wire and rolled your wrists. 

"There's just... some people you can't save, bud. When you do what I do for six years, you... see a lot of things. People you did save. People that couldn't be saved. People you couldn't help in time." You shrugged. "If someone can be saved, 99% of the time, we save them. But sometimes there are people that are beyond saving. And other times... you show up a minute too late. That's just... the way it is."

Frisk was quiet. You were quiet. Sans was quiet. What did you mean by 'save'? Were you a human doctor? It certainly would explain a lot. But... It still left holes. You sounded oddly accepting of your reality, but Sans thought there was a bit of melancholy behind the tone. Remorse, even. For a moment, he wondered if he should be sympathetic.

Frisk leaned over and hugged you, clearly catching you off guard. You smiled, ruffling their hair again. 

"Aw, come on. Don't go all sob-story on me. I'm fine, bud. It's sad, sure, but you can't let it eat you up. You just learn from it. Sounds harsh, but you kinda get used to it."

Frisk gave you a squeeze, then let you go. You ruffled their hair again, making them snicker and duck away. It was just about then that the door slammed open and Papyrus came trotting inside, scattering snow everywhere. 

And just like that, the moment was gone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Filler?
> 
> Filler.
> 
> I'm very tired. And have writers block. But I hope you like this garbage.
> 
> Still taking prompts and ideas and the like!!


	7. An odd sort of alone

It was that second night.

Papyrus and Frisk had left a half-finished jigsaw puzzle in one corner of the living room and gone up to sleep, and Sans had followed suit shortly after (not before taking long enough to find his way up the stares to either unnerve or annoy you. It was kind of hard to tell). This time, you had been the one to turn off the lamp beside the sofa, though you took a few minutes to do so. 

Sans had checked on you about an hour or so after he had initially gone up to find you settling on the sofa again, huddled in one corner of it. You were twiddling something in your hands, and after a moment Sans recognized the odd wire structure you'd been whittling at for the majority of the day. All it was was two similarly shaped antler-like, tree branch-ish protrusions sticking out of a simple curve made up of several intertwined pieces of wire. It didn't /look/ like a weapon, so Sans let you waste your time on it. No harm in letting you have something for your hands to do while you continually dodged Papyrus' human accusations. (Sans had roughly gathered that you didn't like lying, or at least put up a facade of such. You dodged more than anything. If backed into a corner, you would quickly distract his younger brother. It was... funny, in a way, to listen to.)

He watched you for a few minutes, but it seemed that tonight you were content to twiddle with your weird wire thing. You would occasionally mouth something, but generally were much quieter than the night before. Eventually, he wandered back into his room.

The snowstorm outside had mellowed out a bit, but it still threw handfuls of snow at the windows often enough to still be considered enough to keep you here. Dangerous for your fragile human body, anyway. Sans had seen more than one human, stiff and faintly blue, under a thin sheet of snow. Still, it was serene, in a way, the calm, dipping, almost melodic sound of the wind brushing the windows and ghosting over the roof.

 

It was quite for a long time. Nothing but the sound of the snow and quiet whispers of the wind outside. Briefly, Sans wondered if you were comfortable; it was chilly in here, he knew, and while it didn't bother him, he knew humans were inherently delicate and sensitive things.

Then there was a rustling from downstairs. 

Instantly suspicious, Sans was on the balcony in a fraction of a second. You were standing now, near the door. You were tugging on your jacket, fumbling with the zipper for a moment before tugging it up to your chin and flipping the collar up to hide the lower half of your face. That done, you patted around for a moment before plucking up your bent wire. You teased it in your hands a few times, then tenderly slid it over your head. It almost made you look like a monster, coupled with the fact that your form was somewhat hidden beneath your heavy jacket. 

Sans suspicions rose, then sky rocketed when you gingerly tested the doorknob, unlocked it, and very, very, carefully eased the door open. You glanced around for a moment, then slid out and quietly shut the door behind you.

Sans was outside, now donning his coat and very pissed off, in an instant. You were creeping around the side of the house, eyes glinting in the faint light as you kept a look out for dangers. Luckily for you, most monsters, it seemed, were inside, safe from the snow. Except for Sans.

You were heading for the woods, no doubt trying to ditch Frisk and using the snowstorm as cover. Sans was (righteously, in his own opinion) pissed off; Frisk trusted you! Liked you! Hell, he could even say they were dependent on you, in a companionable sense. Oh, you were about to get it.

You ducked under the trees, careful to avoid getting your wire antlers caught on the snow-laiden branches. Sans followed you, silent to your human ears. You were being careful about where you were putting your feet, but every few steps, you would gouge out a mark in the snow or snap off a small twig and jab it into the ground. Were you... marking the way...?

You didn't go very far before you slowed to a stop. It was a simple clearing, oddly empty of trees, though a lump in the snow, several feet long, suggested a tree had fallen here once. You shuffled carefully into the faintly brighter ring where the tree branches didn't block what little light there was. 

You stood there, nearly still as stone, for a long time. You drew several deep breaths, blinking snow from your eyelashes. After a time, Sans began to grow both annoyed and uneasy. Were you just going to spend the night here, undoubtedly killing yourself? He thought you smarter than that. Better than that, maybe?

Suddenly, you let out a huff, creating a plume of steam that quickly disappeared in the thin, frosted air, then turned on your heal and marched back the way you came- staring down at your feet, which ended with you walking sharply into Sans.

You let out a small sound of surprise and perhaps hurt, clutching your forehead as you staggered back a few steps. Your eyes flashed dangerously as you looked up, the look dissolving into annoyance and unease(?) when you apparently made out Sans' form in the dark.

"Oh, it's just you. Tap-dancing Christ, you nearly gave me a heart attack. Do you just like sneaking up on people or something?" 

You seemed... peeved, more than anything. Almost indignantly so. As though you thought you were in the right somehow. Sans' anger faltered, then strengthened. 

"i knew you were up to no good." 

You blinked, then your brow furrowed as you crossed your arms. "What, going out for a breather counts as putting a foot out of line in your book? Or are you really just that eager to off me?"

His own glare faltered, faint confusion taking its place. Still, he refused to let his anger dissolve just yet. "you're ditching Frisk."

Indignation flared in your eyes in an instant. "You can't be serious. I don't know about monsters, but that's not how humans roll. Was that really the first conclusion you jumped to? What kind of person do you take me for?"

Sans really didn't have an answer. Sure, you could have been lying, but the emotion akin to anger he saw flaming in your eyes led him to believe otherwise. For a long minute, nothing was said. Just you, and him, standing a few apart as snow settled upon your shoulders. Your heated glare never faltered, and Sans was eventually forced to huff and look away, muttering. You sighed through your nose, halfheartedly rolling your eyes.

"I guess that's as close to an apology as I'm going to get. Now, if you'll excuse me, he-who-is-only-temporarily-sparing-my-life, I'd like to get out of the cold." 

Sans wordlessly stood to the side and let you pass, trudging through the snow at your shoulder. You didn't say anything or shoot him a look to send him the message that he wasn't welcome to walk with you. Instead, it almost seemed as though the fire in your eyes had been extinguished as quickly as it had been lit. You looked rather indifferent as you meandered along.

For a while, you walked in silence, your head roughly level with Sans' shoulder, the wire antlers adding an inch or two to your height. Your hair, now dry and looking softer than before, was sprinkled heavily with snow, like dust or powdered sugar.

Finally, you spoke. "Can't really blame you, I suppose." A pause. "For jumping to conclusions, I mean. I suppose I would have thought the same thing when it came right down to it. But for the record, if there's anything you can count on, it's me seeing that kid out of here. It's against my moral code to just dump someone in a den of hungry wolves, if moral codes mean anything down here. Hell if I know. It's kind of hard to get a read on some of you guys." 

By that point, Sans was fairly certain you were talking more to yourself. You hardly faltered as you tapped a branch you passed by, causing its contents to spill to the ground in a satisfyingly soft sound. You drew a deep breath, letting out a long sigh. You sounded very tired.

"By the way, I'm not about to go trying to kill you or your brother. No need to pretend-sleep just to keep an eye on me. The least you could do is stare outright. Have some balls, for fucks sake."

He startled slightly. He'd been sure...

"What, you thought I didn't notice? It was pretty obvious."

"how?" He demanded rather harshly, slightly peeved that you had apparently outsmarted him, in a sense.

"You drool more when you actually sleep, thought I didn't think it possible." You were smirking at your little joke behind the collar of your coat. Sans could feel it. "I began to notice the pattern after the first few hours. I mean, if it soothes your conscious, I'll continue to pretend not to notice." 

There was a snicker in your voice. It pissed Sans off. But what were you supposed to say to something like that? He could lock you in the shed for the night and let you back in before Papyrus or Frisk noticed...

Suddenly, you broke the silence Sans hadn't realized had settled.

"You really care about your brother, huh?"

Sans only grunted.

You were quiet a moment. Then, "I can respect that."

You didn't elaborate. Instead, you were silent for the rest of the walk. It gave Sans plenty of time to think, though it was annoying, trying to think when you were only somewhat awake and already irritated. While he was determined to get some answers at some point, he could be patient. If he pushed too much now, you might take off with Frisk at the quickest opportunity and he might not have an excuse to keep you there, and he couldn't force Frisk for risk of breaking their trust...

He barred the way with his bulk when you made it to the door, earning a confused and faintly irritated look from you. You silently took a small step backward, raising an eyebrow at him as yet more snow settled on your hair and patterned against your jacket.

He couldn't leave it like this. If he did, then it'd be a victory of sorts on your end. He had to say something to level the playing field, at least. At best, leave you feeling worse than when you stepped out here. He mulled it over for a minute as your eyes flickered between first his left, then his right socket. Your own eyes were unreadable, suddenly. How could you do that so easily? Switch on and off that which gave away your emotions. Eyes were the gateway to the soul, so why did yours give away so little? 

There was a nice combination of colors in them, if nothing else.

"you have to kill a monster. to get out of here. you have to absorb a monster soul. you can't cross the barrier otherwise." He studied your carefully as he spoke, determined to tell what you were feeling. To his surprise, it wasn't that hard. It wasn't hard at all.

First confusion, then surprise settled on your features as what he said sank in. Surprise was quickly followed by some kind of despair, coupled with something reminiscent of bitterness. Your expression fell entirely, and your eyes dropped from his to look at some point over his shoulder as you ran a hand over your face almost tiredly.

"Son of a bitch." You drew a breath sharply, suddenly looking angry, but just as quickly exhaled it, the anger seemingly going with it. "Well. Fuck. I guess... I'm stuck down here until someone kills me or I snap and either kill myself or someone else." 

Your fingers dug into your cheeks sharply- hard enough to leave marks afterward- and you suddenly turned, quickly snapping an icicle off the nearby windowsill. It startled Sans when it shattered sharply like glass against the stoney ground hidden beneath a hard layer of snow. You stared at the little indents in the snow where the pieces had fallen, then stuffed your hands in your pockets and turned back to him.

"You got anything else to say, or can we go inside? I can't feel my face and I'd rather not get ill. God knows, influenza might prove itself deadly enough down here, amongst everything else." 

You looked tired. Tired, more than anything. Perhaps tired of your misfortune. It made you look... older. The shadows beneath your eyes and lines on your forehead seemed deeper, darker somehow. Something wormed in Sans gut, akin to guilt. He crushed it to the best of his ability, silently pushing the door open and making his way inside ahead of you. He was already ascending the stairs as you were tugging off your boots and carefully easing the crown of wires from your head, though it took a few hairs along with it. 

You sat rather heavily on the sofa, head falling back to rest on the back of the couch. You stared at the ceiling, so still you might as well have been dead. Sans was oddly reminded of himself. 

You were already resigned to your fate, it seemed. Something told Sans it wasn't weakness that made you so certain you wouldn't kill a monster, and as he found himself drifting off to sleep in the quiet of his room, he felt a faint pang of sympathy. He was asleep before he could stifle it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is a mess honestly
> 
> But hey!! I wrote something!! That's... good??? I hope you don't find it too awful,,
> 
> Still taking suggestions and the like??


	8. Eyes are hollow spheres filled with liquid

"That's cheating! You've got big boots!"

"And you've got a jacket, what's your point?" 

You laughed when Frisk huffed in response, burying their head into the collar of your coat. A few days had passed, and the snowstorm had finally subsided, though it seemed like whenever you got edgy to leave, Frisk convinced you to stay on the merits of having somewhere comfortable(ish) to sleep. Papyrus had suggested playing outside, what with the storm finally dying down, and you had reluctantly agreed, so long as you played in the small space behind the shed, out of sight and range of hearing from wandering eyes and ears.

Frisk was wearing your jacket, and another pair of wire antlers you had constructed with care. You were wearing your similar pair, your face very red as you dodged snowballs in nothing but your long-sleeved shirt. Your hands had been very red as well for a while, but now were very pale. 

You winced as you bent down, roughly forming a ball of loose snow in your hands before hurriedly at the smaller human, as if eager to get rid of it. Frisk squealed, shaking the snow from their hair before ducking behind Papyrus' misshapen snowman. 

If Papyrus had figured out you were human, he clearly didn't care very much anymore, though that could change if he grew angry or provoked enough. Whatever the case, he had stopped asking questions, for the most part. 

Sans... didn't really care much, either. You weren't a threat- yet-, and you lifted Frisk's spirits higher than he had seen them yet. Papyrus had even taken an odd sort of shine to you. You and Sans didn't converse much, more just... shared looks. Then again, he never caught you alone for longer than a few moments. If he could, maybe a conversation could be stricken between you. As it was, he couldn't bring himself to care too much.

He watched you, shivering every so often, teeth chattering momentarily before you would force them to stop, as you trudged through the thick snow in nothing but your boots, thick pants, and thin shirt. He admired you, somewhat, for putting Frisk's comfort before yours, but it was something you did often. It was an almost familial sort of relationship, between you and Frisk. As though you were an older sibling. The same sort of protectiveness Sans had for Papyrus, reflected in yourself, if more obviously shown. 

"GREETINGS, ODD MONSTER!"

"Hey, Papyrus. Whatcha making there?"

"MYSELF, OF COURSE!"

"Looking pretty cool."

"OF COURSE IT IS!"

You seemed pleased your small pun had slipped past him. Frisk giggled at your smirk. Papyrus looked confused for a moment, but didn't question it. He was very happy to have someone to play in the snow with, and he looked ecstatic when you proposed a snow sculpting contest. You didn't seem bothered by the dark, sticky drool that fell from his jaw when he laughed. In fact, you might have even been enjoying his company.

"How about a snowman building contest?"

"THAT SOUNDS LIKE LOTS OF FUN! THOUGH, I WILL INEVITABLY WIN, OF COURSE."

"It sounds like fun!"

"Alright, Frisk, you and I will be a team. That levels the odds a little bit, eh, Papyrus?"

After a minute, Sans declined the offer to join in and made his way back inside. 

 

"Hey, (Y/N)?"

"What's up, kiddo?" 

"Do you want your jacket back? You look cold."

"Nope. Feels pretty nice, in a weird way. Invigorating. Wanna feel?"

"Ahhh, no! No!" 

Frisk squealed when you stuffed a small handful of snow down the back of the jacket, making them jump around as they tried to shake it out. They huffed and lightly your arm with small, gloved fists when you laughed. 

"Okay, okay, I give! I'm not sorry for that, but if it makes you happy, I'll apologize."

Frisk puffed out their cheeks and crossed their arms. 

"Gonna take that as a no, then. We making a snowman or what? You're going to have to do the majority of the sculpting; I can't really feel my fingers. At all."

"Do you want these gloves?"

"Nah, keep 'em. Hey, Papyrus, I'm gonna run inside for a minute. Don't stop on my account."

 

Sans had seated himself on the sofa, letting something idly play on the television to give him some background noise to doze to (currently Mettaton, demonstrating how to properly remove eyeballs from the corpse to preserve as much of the eye as possible, a rerun) when the door creaked, then swung open. Sans pulled himself out of his daze enough to glance over.

You wiped your hands on your pants vigorously, clearly trying to get some feeling back in them, before you glanced up, and your face immediately drained of color when your gaze found the television. For the first time, Sans saw true and utter revulsion on your face. 

For a moment, it was as if you couldn't move, then you flung yourself toward the television. Your hands fumbled with the sides for a moment, clearly feeling for something, then you began jabbing at every button you could get your hands on until the tv clicked into blackness. You slumped against it in what Sans could only assume was relief. 

For a moment, you stood there, chest shuddering beneath your shirt. Then you straightened rather stiffly and marched into the kitchen. After a moment, Sans heard the facet running. He stood and meandered his way over to the doorway, watching as you ran your hands under lightly steaming water, then wiped a hand across your face. 

You spotted him out of the corner of your eye as you dried your hands, but didn't look him in the face. Silence. He waited.

"Sorry. Didn't seem like you were watching it, anyway." 

Your voice was oddly low. Normally you weren't shy about speaking at a relatively normal volume. Finally, you looked up and met his gaze. You looked rather disgruntled. Angry, maybe, but not at him. Yourself, maybe. Maybe even the television, for all he knew. When he raised an eyebrow, your brow furrowed the slightest and you looked away again. After a pause,

"Look, you see someone's eye pop like a wet balloon once, and they're just kind of ruined for you, alright? Anything else I can handle, just... not eyes." When there was a pause, you sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. "Eyes, teeth, and finger nails are some of the most sensitive parts of the body, and, hell, I've seen a guy with his finger tips chopped off before. You get desensitized to most stuff after a while, but eyes still bother me. Sue me for it."

A long silence. You looked bothered by your own confession. Suddenly, Sans saw his chance. Frisk and Papyrus were still outside.

"what were you? on the surface. what did you do."

You looked up to meet his gaze, surprise evident in your gaze. After a heartbeat, realization dawned on your face. "I was a paramedic. Not, like, a gang member or something." 

When he continued to stare you, you looked away for a moment, running your fingers through your hair. 

"And I suppose that word means nothing to you. Emergency medical transport? If someone needed to get to a hospital as soon as possible, they called someone like me. I assessed their situation, and did what I could to keep them in one piece or breathing until we got them there. Saw two of just about everything, though, with the city I lived in, that was kind of... expected."

Huh. That certainly explained a lot. Sans was... curious. How bad could things possibly be on the surface, compared to here? Then again, you hardly flinched at just about everything the underground threw at you... 

"what was the worst thing you'd ever seen?"

You laughed under your breath, leaning back against the countertop in an oddly casual way. "You mean besides the guy who lost an eye? I could go on for hours. It's hard to pick just one." You scratched your jaw, eyes suddenly hazy as you reflected. "... Maybe the guy who went up against a train and lost. Looked like he went through a meat grinder. Or maybe the guy who's eighteen wheeler caught fire. If he lived, the scars would've covered most of his body. Might've lost that arm. Then there was the guy who apparently pissed off a boss. Lost him, though..."

You trailed off, expression suddenly sorrowful. Remorseful, maybe. After a minute, you shook your head. 

"In a city like that, you see a lot of fucked up shit. Most people dropped out after the first few weeks, and I just so happened to stick around long enough to get used to it. After getting used to it comes desensitizing. I guess I would be one of the only people to fall down here not too fazed by finding chips of bone in a pie." You shrugged, apparently shaking off the remains of whatever memories had settled like dust on your subconscious. "I don't even know why I'm telling you this. It probably doesn't mean much of anything to you."

"you're a weird human." 

You chuckled again, this time not so lightly. "So I've been told. I could say you're a weird monster. Guess that makes two of us." 

For a moment, you met his gaze. There was an odd, almost bitter kind of smile on your face, but your eyes were unreadable. The look broke when the front door opened.

"We've finished our snowmen!"

"COME AND JUDGE THEM! THOUGH I AM QUITE CERTAIN MINE WILL WIN."

You straightened and headed for the door, not so much as sparing a glance in Sans' direction as you did. "Sure, let's what you guys got. ... Well, it's certainly an interesting artistic choice, going for bones instead of tree branches..." 

The door closed behind you just as Papyrus cackled triumphantly.

 

You sat and drew with Frisk on the floor after dinner that night. Papyrus reluctantly joined in after realizing this meant no puzzles or old board games. Sans seated himself on the floor nearby to more or less join in the 'fun'.

"Whatcha drawing, bud?"

"Miss Toriel."

"Nice."

"What are you drawing?"

"Honestly, your guess is as good as mine. I'm no artist. What about you, Papyrus?"

"MYSELF!"

"Nice."

"AND YOU ODD MONSTERS, OF COURSE! PLUS SANS, BUT HE IS SLEEPING."

"Can't say it's not accurate." 

You snickered and Frisk laughed loudly, and Sans couldn't bring himself to glare at you. It wasn't a lie, after all. Plus it would've been too much effort.

"Hey, those look like trees!"

"Well, trees are easy." You shrugged. "How about a game?"

"Ooh, ooh, I want to play! ... What kind of game?"

"I propose a drawing idea, and whoever draws it best wins. Or anyone can propose. Maybe take turns?"

"I want to play!"

"I DO, AS WELL, AND THOUGH I WILL MOST CERTAINLY WIN, I ENCOURAGE YOU NOT TO FEEL DISCOURAGED!"

"Alright. First round, I'm caller. Hmmmmmmmm. How about... favorite animal?"

Both Frisk and Papyrus set to furiously scribbling as you sat back, looking rather comfortable. Was Sans imagining it, or did you look somewhat more relaxed than the previous days? After a moment, you met his gaze. Your expression remained rather lax, though you raised your eyebrows the slightest bit then let them relax again before you glanced back at the odd duo scribbling away on the papers. It was a small sort of 'hi, I've noticed our gazes met'. All that was really needed. 

"Done!"

"DONE! I FINISHED FIRST!"

"Alright, let me see. Hm. That's a... bear?"

"Yeah!"

"You made it look kinda like Sans with those teeth." You snickered and Frisk tossed their head. 

"Well, he looks like one!"

"I thought you said he looked like a teddy bear." There was a teasing lilt to your voice. Frisk's cheeks turned slightly darker, but they met your gaze boldly.

"That's cause he does!" 

You snickered, but turned to regard Papyrus' drawing next. You blinked, then squinted at it. "That's a... Is that... Is that a... rabbit?" Papyrus nodded enthusiastically, drool running down his chin when he grinned yet broader. "Alright. Well. I'm gonna have to say... Papyrus wins this round." 

He drummed his hands and feet against the floor happily, then titled his head at an awkward angle. "CAN I PICK NEXT?"

You shrugged. "Sure." You picked up a marker and pulled a paper toward yourself noncommittally. You had a small, easy smile on your features, eyes almost half lidded in the low light. 

"FAVORITE PUZZLE!"

You laughed softly, but began to glide your marker over the page in a way that made Sans feel you weren't taking it very seriously. Frisk took a minute before they started scribbling again.

When you pulled away and lifted the paper, all Sans could make out was a square with a bunch of smaller squares inside of it. Papyrus titled his head at it curiously. 

"WHAT KIND OF PUZZLE IS THAT?"

"It's a Rubik's cube. I would have colored it in, but that would have taken a while. I never solved one, but I used to have several." You chucked to yourself, shrugging one shoulder before lowering the paper and glancing at Frisk's as they lifted it. It was one of the ones from outside Snowdin- one of the ones Papyrus made, with X and Os.

Papyrus wiggled slightly, clearly pleased. "FRISK WINS!!"

"Alright, Frisk, you pick what we do next."

And so it went for a while. You never put much effort into yours, content to let Frisk or Papyrus win easily, picking Papyrus for a win a few times before picking Frisk. It was... nice. Comfortable maybe. 

At some point, someone suggested 'worst fear.' Sans wasn't sure who. All three of you were drawing for it, though. Frisk started drawing almost immediately. Papyrus stared blankly into the air for a while, looking both confused and surprisingly troubled. Eventually, however, he did pick up a marker and set to dragging it across a loose piece of paper. You dragged the pen across the paper rather slowly, at first. Almost contemplative. 

After a minute, Frisk held theirs up. Several dark scribbles, all with glaring eyes and many teeth, surrounded a small, frowning, human-like shape. Off to one side was a drawing of a simple needle, partnered with a quickly scrawled 'pointy things'. You didn't comment on it, just stared at it in an odd silence before turning back to your own. 

Papyrus' was just a blank paper with a crude drawing of himself in the middle, frowning unhappily out at Frisk and Sans when he lifted it in his teeth. Frisk didn't look very happy about the game any more. 

Sans could just see yours from where he was seated. There was a circle with several scribbles across its flat surface- almost like the blue and green 'globes' that popped up in the garbage dump sometimes. A speech bubble with several tails leading back to the circle floated above it, the words 'Who is that?' inside of it. Below the circle was a human-like figure, similar to Frisk's, with several hands hovering around it, as though dragging it down.

You stared down at it, expression suddenly blank or unreadable.

"What's yours?" Frisk leaned over, trying to get a look at it. You blinked, then slapped a hand down on it and harshly crushed it, folding it into your palm. 

"Nothin'. Folks like me aren't afraid of much, bud." You said breathily, ruffling their hair as you pushed yourself to your feet. Without a glance back, you disappeared into the kitchen, paper balled up in your hand. 

Frisk and Papyrus shared a confused look, but didn't seem to think much of it and started drawing as if nothing had happened. Sans could hear the sound of tearing paper in the kitchen. 

 

You reclined across the couch as Sans ascended the stairs, arms behind your head, resting against the arm of the couch. Papyrus slid sluggishly into his room, Frisk hugging his shoulder as they tried not to fall asleep on his back. 

You crossed your legs absently, head titled back as you stared wordlessly at the ceiling. Sans stopped at landing, watching you for a moment. Your eyes slid over to meet his. Your eyebrows raised slightly, then fell back into their resting position again. You broke away from his gaze, reaching back with one arm. Your hand fumbled with the lamp for a moment, then there was a click and you were plunged into darkness. Sans continued on his way to his room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> More bad writing??
> 
> More bad writing, this time with a side of slow. I have no idea what I'm doing still. I'm aware I'm rewriting the entire HorrorTale canon kill me,,, think of it as my interpretation?? If you want. I don't know.
> 
> Ideas and shit??? Put it in the comments if you want!!


	9. birds of a feather

Yet more days passed, but still you lingered. 

Frisk had gotten cold feet about continuing on their quest. Perhaps they wanted to savor this peace that had settled. It had been two weeks since you'd found yourselves sleeping in the skeletons home, and, while you had settled in nicely enough, there was something odd about your demeanor about the past few days. Sans couldn't put his finger on how or why, but he knew something wasn't exactly right.

And then one night he woke, went to get a drink of water (or alcohol. Probably alcohol.), and found the living room empty. 

In all honesty, he was confused. Not betrayed, nor suspicious, nor angry, but confused. Had you gone out for another midnight walk? Maybe you were getting antsy after staying in the same place, surrounded by potential dangers, for so long. He felt something similar to a twinge of guilt. He could have made you more comfortable. You made Frisk happy, at least. More over, you made Papyrus happy. 

He shuffled over to see if the door was unlocked, and spotted the shadow of a bulk on the front steps. At first, he thought it might have been a monster that had finally caught and downed you on the front porch. There was no scent of blood, no signs of scuffle, and he hadn't heard a fight, which you surely would have put up... 

He pushed the door open, more out of curiosity than anything, and the shape shifted, a pair of crooked, thin antlers took shape about its head. Your eyes glinted in the low, low light as you twisted your head just enough to see him before turning back, lowering it once more. In one hand was a long, jagged stick, sweeping long, curving lines in the snow. He closed the door behind him and shuffled over, seating himself beside you, for once careful enough to put a few inches of space between. The snow crunched and hissed beneath the sticks pointed tip.

"So," you finally said, voice low as though someone else might be listening, "do you always check on me every five minutes or what?"

He let out a silent breath of laughter. But it wasn't funny. "came down for water."

"Hm."

More silence. After a minute, you stabbed the stick sharply into the snow; it wobbled as you released it but did not fall. You crossed your arms on your knees, slouching forward just a little bit more. Your breath rose in silvery ribbons about your face. 

"I wanted to get some fresh air."

"hm."

A pause.

"I was once held hostage. On the surface. For three days. I guess I wanted to prove to myself that this wasn't the same. That I could leave if I wanted to." 

The words hung heavy in the air.

"how'd that happen?"

You shrugged. "I was an idiot. Ran into a scene before gathering if it was clear or not. Our only info was that there was a stab wound, so I assumed it was safe. Was my first big lesson. I managed to find myself at gunpoint, and, well." You rolled your head from right to left. "Self-preservation and all that. Managed to get myself and the other hostage out in one piece, though. That was pretty cool."

"humans hold other humans hostage."

You slid an unimpressed but surprised look his way. "Well, yeah. Not all humans are like Frisk. I don't know how many humans you've met, but, while a lot of them are pretty okay, some of them can be... not so okay. Abusers, murderers, rapists... It doesn't even have to be blatantly physical damage. Psychological abusers, manipulators. Name it and we've done it. Humans aren't exactly a species free from bad decisions. Hell, we put you all down here, didn't we?" 

"i assumed humans favored other humans."

"You kidding? I wouldn't have a job 75% of the time if humans didn't hate other humans. We've got a pretty high concentration of fucking terrible people in Ebott City." Your fingers began to trace something in your pocket. "Eesh, I must sound pretty pessimistic. Don't get me wrong, a lot of people can be pretty great, but a lot of my job involved seeing victims of bastards who have a pretty weird idea of 'necessary evils'." 

Silence settled heavy in the air like a thick blanket. Sans hadn't really thought about the idea of good humans or bad humans- mostly just edible ones, and Frisk. You were the first to make him truly think about the concept: That humans might wrong or spite other humans, though, before he had assumed it only in the name of survival. Not 'just because.' The stick shifted slightly in its place, making a barely audible crunching noise.

"They gave me a week off after the hostage incident." You eventually said, as if to prove some humans weren't so bad. "My team, I mean. My bosses. Head medic. Said they'd understand if I quit, but asked me not to sue. It was my own fault, really, so I reassured them I wouldn't. Ended up coming back three days early. Those folks- the team- they're like a family. I suppose you'd have to be, in a field like that, in a city like ours... Still. It was... something I wanted to be a part of. That wasn't my thought at the time- I mostly just kept telling myself I needed that paycheck- but once it happened, I kind of looked back and realized." You abruptly stopped, shaking your head the slightest. "I'm rambling."

For a while, you were both silent. Sans realized you might have missed the surface. Though you apparently saw the sides not everyone was eager to, you still thought of it as your home. Or maybe the people, not the place, were considered your home. It was an odd thought.

"What about you?" You breathed, watching as a hazy trickle of snow fell, dust like, from the roof.

"me?" It was the first time in a while you had asked Sans... much of anything. Let alone anything about himself. He eyed you carefully, but all you did was blink slowly in the light your eyes could barely detect.

"Yeah, you. Monsters. It seems you guys stick to a mainly human diet. What happens when there are no humans? Do you stock up or what?"

"not many do. it's mainly every monster for themselves, unless shopkeep catches more than one and feels like sellin'." He shifted his gaze away from you. Not many monsters were out tonight. No eyes stared back at him.

"So what do you eat in the mean time?" You asked as though you already knew the answer. Kind of soft. Almost careful.

"some get desperate and turn on one another. most just wait. we know they'll fall eventually. then it's just a scramble to get them first."

"Hm." 

You tilted your head back, staring at the ghostly out linings of icicles lining the roof overhang. 

"Must be tough."

Sans only grunted.

More silence.

"... Did you guys start eating humans before or after we trapped you down here?"

He looked at you again. Your expression was troubled. Sympathetic. Sad, maybe. Remorseful.

"dunno. i wasn't there when we were on the surface. you'd have to ask Asgore." He paused. "as far as i know, it started when the humans first rebelled against us. we've kind of been this way ever since. haven't ever really tried to stop."

"It's our own fault, then. Somehow, I'm not really surprised." You chuckled, but it was hollow. Very, very hollow. More like something was rattled around inside your ribs than a laugh. 

You were quiet for a while, frowning out at the snow you probably couldn't see very clearly. 

"Hey, uh, this is weird to say, but I'm sorry on behalf of... my ancestors. Or whoever trapped your down here, or attacked you... Uh, how about, I apologize on behalf of the human race. In general." 

Sans couldn't think of a response. He just chuckled quietly.

More silence. You shoved a hand in your pocket and pulled something out- a box of cigarettes, though not a brand Sans saw in the local shop. You fumbled with it a moment, then shook one out and grabbed it. You stuffed your other hand in your other pocket and took out an old, beat up lighter. You held the cigarette between your teeth and shielded it with a hand as you thumbed the lighter with the other.

Click. Click. Click.

You sighed in frustration around the cigarette, giving it another rather harsh flick of your thumb to no result. You gave the lighter a halfhearted glare, looking disappointed and annoyed. 

After a moment, Sans held out his hand, palm up. You gave him an incredulous look, then rolled your eyes slightly. You dropped the lighter into his wide, bony palm without much ceremony, seemingly coming to the conclusion that the thing wouldn't work any more. It's metallic case clicked quietly against his bones.

He gave it one careful, strong flick, and a bright orange, flickering flame sprung from it. It glowed brightly, warmly in the thick, heavy dark. It illuminated your surprise well. 

You took it from him carefully, then lit the end of your cigarette. You gave it an uneasy puff, then let the lighter click closed as a trickle of smoke eased from your mouth. You breathed naturally out through your nose, the smoke escaping as though from a dragon's snout. Your drags were slow and easy, not inexperienced. Sans had never noticed any hint of smoke on you before, but it seemed to ease your nerves. Your shoulders slowly relaxed as you breathed out a ring. For a while, nothing was said as you puffed on the cigarette in a relaxed, contemplative way.

You raised your hand that was holding the cigarette box and titled it, offering one to Sans.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm not very certain on how to handle this story, to be honest. I have a few ideas on how to develop Sans and readers relationship, but at the same time, I don't want it to be the same things over and over again, and yet... The kinds of things I'm used to writing, well, the characters aren't in exactly the same situation? What I can do with reader and Frisk is kind of limited to the skelebros house unless I force them out of there with some kind of conflict, if you catch my drift. I'm planning on doing something with Undyne, but it's proving to not be the easiest thing in the world to actually develop a premise and chapter around. Maybe I just kind of stink at this kind of story? Or,, stories in general,, eh
> 
> Anyway! Bear with me. I know these chapters haven't been the most interesting, but I really am trying. ;-; If you have any questions, comments, concerns, or prompts, leave me a comment!!


	10. laughter

It was an oddly companionable sensation, sitting there on the porch with you, breathing out clouds of smoke that blurred the air and soothed fried nerves. You breathed out a final, large ring, then stubbed out the very end of your cigarette in the snow before tossing it behind the bushes.

"Don't smoke often, but it sure does wonders on the nerves, eh?" You breathed, the last trickle of smoke leaving your lips in a content sigh. 

Sans responded with a small hum, letting a plume of smoke escape his parted jaws in a cloud before the last of his cigarette met a fate similar of yours. You weren't wrong. 

You sat in silence for a long time, the last of the smoke slowly dissipating in the air like steam. Finally, you breathed out a sigh and grabbed the the railing, pulling yourself to your feet.

"Welp, feels like it's time to go back inside. I can't feel my toes." You dusted off your hands on your pants, cigarettes already tucked away in your pocket. Sans stood beside you.

"want to get a drink?"

You raised an eyebrow at him, looking both surprised and vaguely confused. "What?"

"a drink. at Grillby's. i was going anyway." 

You blinked, confusion leaving your face to be replaced by skepticism. "... Would that be safe?" You were actually considering? He'd said it on a whim, but hadn't actually believed... 

"Grillby isn't that type. it's part of the reason we get along."

You looked skeptical for another heartbeat, then shrugged nonchalantly. "Alright, sure, I wanted to get out of the house anyway, but if this is just some trick to kill me, I know ten ways to break a jaw." 

The last statement caught him off guard enough to get a huff of laughter out of him. The walk there was companionable, if quiet. You had straightened your antlers and drawn your coat up around your chin, face half hidden behind it. The few monsters out and about were either too busy to notice or didn't pay attention and you went by unbothered.

You breathed a quiet sigh when Sans pushed opened the door to Grillby's, apparently hoping you were home free. The bar was empty, as expected. All the evening occupants had cleared out long before. Most monsters slept during the night. Those that didn't hunted. 

Your expression shifted to surprised curiosity at the sight of Grillby himself- the white, ghostly flames apparently not something you were expecting. He lit the place in a thin, frosted way. You looked paler in it, the shadows beneath your eyes starker, the stress lines around them deeper. 

You slid onto the stool beside Sans when he sat at the bar, nearly brushing elbows with him. Grillby stared at you for a few long moments, assessing you. You waited, looking back at him through an expectant gaze. After a minute, you raised an eyebrow the slightest and gave an almost unamused wave with one hand.

"........... A human." Grillby finally said, eyes briefly leaving you to glance at Sans. Sans just shrugged.

"Yep. And I'd appreciate if you not tell anyone. I'd like to stay in one piece and relatively un-digested, thanks." You spoke drily as you unzipped your jacket a few inches, folding the collar down so your face was exposed. 

".................... No."

"Is that a 'no, I won't tell anyone' or a 'no, I'm telling someone right now and you should get the hell out of dodge'?" 

Sans huffed out a laugh. Well, if you were being sarcastic, perhaps it meant you trusted him enough not to put you in immediate danger.

"........................................... The former." He glanced at Sans again, this time holding his gaze.

"put it on my tab." Grillby just turned away, nodding the slightest. When you gave Sans a questioning look, he shrugged slightly again. "sometimes you've gotta pay to keep people quiet."

"Huh. You're tellin' me." You raised an eyebrow at Grillby's back, but didn't say anything more about it. "I'm assuming you're a regular here. You regularly bring humans in to get 'em drunk before spilling their guts or what?" Sans snorted, shooting an unimpressed look. You put up your hands as if in defense. "Hey, just making sure. Didn't want to go thinking the guy I shared a cigarette with was going to repay me with murder."

"repay you."

"Hey, you did say it was on /your/ tab, jaws."

Sans rolled his eyes when you gave a half-smirk, raising your eyebrows the slightest. Maybe it was lack of sleep, maybe you'd finally had enough of saying every sentence as if you were treading on thin ice, maybe it was the smoke, but you suddenly were making conversation and making fun as if it was just something to do. 

"We here for a drink or what? It feels like it's been forever since I've had the chance."

"you sure about this? stuff can be pretty strong." He didn't want to have to drag a drunk human home. Besides, seemed only fair to warn you. Maybe the sleep deprivation was getting to him too, but you seemed... different. Less like 'that person with Frisk' and more like 'an individual to have a drink with and talk to.'

"Shouldn't be too much of a problem. I pride myself on being the most sober drunk I know." The tone of feigned, pompous pride and sassy-but-graceful chest touch coupled with the fact that he wasn't expecting the joke brought a laugh out of Sans.

"alright, suit yourself. set us up, Grillbz. the usual."

You eyed the bottle Grillby placed in front of Sans as a shot glass found its way in front of you. "Human free or does such a thing not exist in this place?" 

Sans scoffed. "human free." 

"Alright. Fill me up, Johnny." When Sans shot you a somewhat confused look as he filled the small shot glass, you chuckled to yourself. "Human thing. I might be the slightest bit out of it right now. I almost feel like I'm hitting the bar with a few of the team after work, honestly. Truth be told, I'm tired to this beating around the bush business. I'd much rather just say what I mean and mean what I say without fear of getting myself eaten as a result." You picked up your glass and jabbed it slightly against the air. "Cheers." 

And you knocked it back as if it was nothing. You seemed to contemplate the taste, then shook your head slightly, hair fluffed by the movement, as if shaking something off. "Oof. I don't even know how to describe that. Burns like hell."

"too strong for your human tastes?" Sans jeered as he threw his own back, relishing the scorching feeling. You laughed.

"Hardly. I've had worse. Give me another shot." 

"you sure about that?"

"If I can function for three days straight on nothing but toast and coffee and then make it home safe after a night of drinking, I think I can handle this." You flicked the shot glass, making it ring. "Fill me up."

Sans shrugged, then obliged. The faintest of buzzes was starting to set in, and it was a welcome feeling. He hadn't been able to enjoy a drink with a friend in...

A friend? He looked at you again. You had lifted the glass to Grillby's light, swirling its contents around casually. Your antlers glowed silver in the light, almost making you seem monster-like. Almost. You were still obviously enough a human. And yet... there was an air about you, something about your nonchalance, your almost talkative attitude... You were borderline charismatic. Comfortable to be around. Sans wasn't sure he would call you a friend out loud, but there was something there that made him want to relate to you.

"Alright, jaws." You spoke after a moment, drawing him out of his mental ramblings. "Instead of just the two of us getting buzzed in absolute silence to then awkwardly walk back, how about we make this interesting."

"yeah? how would you go about that?"

"I ask you a question, you answer, take a shot, ask me a question, I answer, take a shot, so on and so on. If so desired, you can skip a question. Yes or no?"

He mulled it over. There... didn't seem any harm in it. "alright. shoot."

"Mm." You sniffed the liquid in your glass, nose wrinkling the slightest. "Hobbies? Beside the obvious."

"what would the obvious be?"

"Well, sleeping, clearly." You laughed, shooting him a look. "You walked right into that one. And, well, the humans thing."

"humph. ... thinkin'."

"Is that your final answer?"

"yep."

"Fair enough. Take a shot and shoot." 

Sans knocked back another shot, then filled his again as he mulled it over. "first thoughts when you fell down here."

You broke into a low laugh. "Believe it or not, my very first thought was 'That didn't kill me?'" Your chuckle drew a low laugh from Sans. "But when that monster in the ruins- Toriel's her name- came up and more or less human-napped me, I began to think it /had/ killed me and I was in hell. Still mulling that last part over." 

You said it lightly and laughed, as if it was a joke. Sans wondered if it was the partial truth. You took the alcohol in a single gulp, breathed a small 'woo!', then cleared your throat.

"Alright. Favorite part of a human body? Y'know, to eat. I've been morbidly curious for a while."

He was almost caught off guard. Your barriers were visibly crumbling as the alcohol burned in the back of your throat. You half-smirked as you blinked at him expectantly. He shrugged. "no real preference."

"Aw, boo. Boring answer. Ah, whatever, take your shot." 

And so it went. Sans wasn't sure how much time you wasted together. The alcohol made the atmosphere comfortable and loose. Sans forgot to be grouchy and stoic.

"pet peeves."

"You know those times where you say something loud and clear, and the person you're talking to says 'What?' so you repeat it louder and they say they heard you the first time and you should stop shouting? Auuuugh that's the worst!" You groaned, laughing at your own misfortune. You took another shot. Sans had lost count of how many it had been. "Alright. Pet peeves?"

"cheap."

"Sue me. Answer."

"waking up."

"Cheap answer! Give me a better one."

"you're pushing your luck."

"Sue me. Better answer."

There was laughter under all your words. A relaxed, at ease smile graced your slightly more colored face.

"monsters that barge in without knocking."

"Fair enough."

"someone you hate."

You chuckled at that one, knocking the shot glass between your hands like a hockey puck. "Hates a pretty strong word. I had a strong distaste for this one guy, though. Hanson."

"Hanson?"

"Oh, don't even get me started on Hanson. This guy- this guy, he works one week longer than I do- he started a week before me, right? And because everyone else could boss him around, he takes it out on me, alright? He used- he used to report me to head for how I cleaned out the ambulance! As if he did it any better, if at all. Oh, he had one punchable face..." You trailed off, almost giggling.

"didn't hate anyone who killed other humans?"

You shrugged loosely. "Eh. Forgive and forget. It was the police man's jobs to focus on them. I mean, I didn't like 'em, but... Eh. It's a complicated sorta thing. I don't think I could actually bring myself to hate anyone, y'get me? Everyone kinda... makes mistakes. Some are just... worse." You shook your head, gulping down the alcohol. The bottle was running almost low. "Alright. Alright. How about worst fear?"

Sans' mood soured slightly, and he stared sternly into his glass, grumbling. "nothing."

"Hmmm, yeah, I can get that." You murmured, rolling your glass between your palms leisurely. Sans shot you a look, but didn't ask.

"you miss the surface?"

You laughed, but you were doing that a lot. "Kinda depends. I mean, I miss my pals and whatever, miss being able to walk around without having to worry about being... eaten, and, man, could I sink my teeth into a steak right about now, but Ebott City itself? Sort of but not really at the same time."

"that's weird."

"Would you miss the underground if you suddenly had to leave?"

"not for a second."

"What if you had to leave Papyrus behind?" 

You smiled when he fell silent. 

"See, y'get me. Alright, I guess that counts as my question. Shoot."

Sans thought about it for a while. "thoughts on souls."

"Whoa, pulling that card on me, eh?" You chuckled. "And you mean, like, what, the afterlife, kind of thing?" You shrugged, mulling it over for a moment. "Eh. Would be cool if it existed, wouldn't be surprised if it didn't. The whole souls business has been iffy for me for a while."

"what?" Sans squinted at you, confusion chewing at his subconscious. "souls... have been 'iffy' for you."

You waved a hand. "Well, yeah. I mean, the human projection that emotions must mean we have a magic soul thing inside of us has been flawed since the start. Emotions are just chemical reactions in our brains. They scientifically explained crying recently, did you hear? Well, you didn't, but..." Another flap of the hand. "Humans have been trying to put ourselves on a pedestal away from all these 'lower creatures' for a while, and I guess some folks don't think dogs feel actual emotions or whatever the fuck... Souls, cool in concept, probably not a real thing."

Sans scoffed. You shot him a look that had 'Really?' written all over it. "souls are a real thing."

"Uuuughhhhhh. You're one of those types, huh?"

"no, souls are a real, tangible thing. Asgore has a few up in Hotland."

You scoffed right back. "What kind of fool do you take me for?"

He pointed at your chest, resting his chin in one hand as he slumped against the counter slightly. "you've got one inside ya right now. human souls are a lot stronger than monster ones, so we need some to break the barrier."

Your look shifted to befuddlement. "What? You're not making any sense."

"we need a certain number of human souls to cross the magic barrier that keeps us all trapped down here." 

"That... What? I don't get it. I thought there was a literal, actual wall or something keeping you here, that only humans could cross? And like, in order to get to it, we had to beat a guard monster or something? You've lost me so far I'm somewhere in the Pacific Ocean."

Sans laughed. "no. some human magicians cast a spell, a long time ago, and made a magical barrier to keep us down here. to break it and get loose, we need a number of human souls equal to the number who cast the spell. lotta humans fall down here, but when the body is damaged a certain amount, the souls just kinda shatter and become unusable, and since most folks want a bite to eat..." Sans shrugged. 

You stared at him, long and hard, surprisingly focused despite the alcohol in your system. "So, like... Souls are a literal, actual thing."

"yep."

"But like, how do they not fly up into heaven as soon as someone dies? If this Asgore guy actually has some stored up or whatever."

"royal scientist made some extraction machine... don't know the specifics."

"It's gonna take a while for this to sink in and this liquor isn't really helping." You scratched at your jaw. "So, like... What do they look like?"

Sans shrugged, then unzipped his jacket a few inches and tugged on the collar of his shirt, revealing a few ribs and the white glow of his own soul. You blinked at it, and your hands twitched, as if longing to touch. After a moment, Sans zipped up his jacket again.

"So... Upside down, white hearts? It was kind of hard to see."

"heard humans look different. similar, but more colorful. been a while since i read up on it, though."

"Read up... Do you guys have a library?" You suddenly looked thoughtful.

"yeah. you just gonna forget all about the soul thing, huh?"

"Nah. Gives me something to think about for a while. I kinda have to reevaluate my whole world view, after all." You shrugged, casually turning back to your shot glass. "Give me one last shot, and I'll be pretty much done."

"alright. same."

You stood, seemed to gather your balance for a moment, then turned on your heel and walked to the door at Sans' shoulder, steps surprisingly even. You didn't even stumble as you walked through the snow outside.

"Woo, the colds a relief." You shook out your hair, taking a deep breath. A smile was still settled on your features, eyelids barely lidded. "Thanks for that, jaws. Most fun I've had since... well, a bunch of shit happened." Another laugh bubbled out of your mouth. Here, you stumbled. 

Suddenly, you were very quiet.

"you're thinkin', aren't ya?"

"Yep." Not so much as a chuckle. Still light and airy, though.

"what about?"

"Do I get a shot if I answer? I was just thinking... I'm gonna fall asleep, and when I wake up, it's not even gonna matter if I remember this or not, 'cause it's back to square one. Back to checking the windows every so often. Back to being careful what I say and how I say it. Back to wondering when this tickin' time-bomb's gonna finally hit zero. As great as this was- to finally feel like my life wasn't on the line, finally have a conversation like a normal human being- it's all gonna be the same when we wake up in the morning." You shrugged, your tone still light as you pulled yourself up the steps by the railing. "Kinda depressin' is all."

Sans paused, hand on the doorknob. You were right. That companionable, comfortable air that had settled would be gone, and it wouldn't just affect him. 

"... if it's any conciliation, i'll stick my neck out for ya." 

You laughed, though it was more like a sigh than anything, and the smile on your face quirked up the slightest bit. "Ditto."

You and Sans both sat on the couch, you because you had finally started wobbling, and Sans because he wasn't sure he could make it up the stairs without waking someone or falling on his face. You dozed for a while, head nodding, before you finally fell asleep, antlers still askew about your head. Sans found himself not minding sharing a sleeping space with you, though he was careful to put a respectful few inches between.

Your sleep was dark and dreamless.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> YOU ARE ALL SO LOVELY?? WHAT IS THIS????
> 
> Thank you all for all the prompts and ideas and encouragement! Look forward to seeing some updates, like, soon. And probably a lot all at once. I've suddenly gotten a burst of both inspiration and the will to write, so... 
> 
> Anyway! Enjoy this weird chapter. Don't drink alcohol, kids. It's not a good. 
> 
> Comments, questions, concerns, prompts or ideas? Leave them in the comments!


	11. Fallen Down with the sickness

Sans wasn't quite sure if you remembered the entirety of that night, but your relationship with him was... different than beforehand. 

There was a lot of shared looks, a lot of short conversations, a lot of hellos, a lot less uncomfortable tenseness on both sides of the interactions. There was some kind of companionship he found in you, and, judging by your returned relaxed nature, he suspected you found it in him, as well. It was... nice. An odd sort of friendship.

You still stared out into the woods, out toward the town, out into the mist beyond Snowdin often enough, but your eagerness to leave had decreased some. It seemed, for now, you were content with walks in the woods behind the brothers' house, however careful you had to be. You ended up asking Papyrus if he had any movies one day, and, after roughly an hour of going through the collection, came up with something that you supposed was safe enough for Frisk to watch. Thus came movie nights. You ended up watching the same movies over and over again, as there were three in total that you found suitable. There wasn't a lot of room on the couch, but with Frisk normally sitting on top of someone, you and Sans ended up taking turns sitting on the floor. Most of the time, it was you. You seemed comfortable enough.

Days crept past, faster now. 

 

And then, one day, Sans woke to the sound of retching and your voice, low and soothing. 

At first, he was confused, still groggy with sleep. Then he heard Papyrus' voice, sounding both confused and vaguely worried, and he decided it would be worth it to wake up and find out what was going on. Upon coming down the stairs, the first thing that greeted him was you, sliding around Papyrus as you stepped out of the bathroom, Frisk in your arms. You carried them over to the sofa, then lowered them and gently unwrapped their arms from around your neck.

The kid looked pale and sweaty, expression downcast and sour, noise scrunched as if they smelled something awful. They fussed slightly when you gently swept their hair away from their forehead and behind their ear. You felt their cheek with the back of your hand, then palmed their forehead. You sighed, taking your hand away after a moment and scratching at your cheek absently before glancing up. Your surprisingly troubled gaze met Sans' for a brief moment.

"Hm. Hey, Papyrus, do you have a thermometer? Can you get it for me?"

Papyrus looked confused, but lifted himself onto all fours and trotted into the kitchen without questioning it. Sans shuffled an inch closer.

"what's up?"

"Seems like Frisk's got a fever. How ya feeling, bud?"

Frisk just shook their, looking queasy. Sans frowned at the vague answer.

"what's that entail?"

You sighed, scratching the back of your neck. You met his gaze for a moment, then shook your head the slightest and nodded toward the kitchen. He hesitated, then begrudgingly nodded back. Just then, Papyrus reappeared, thermometer loose between his teeth. He dropped it on the sofa beside Frisk. 

You cleaned it roughly with the end of your shirt- the best you could, anyway- then held it up to Frisk's mouth. "Open up and lift up your tongue." 

Frisk made a face, then gingerly took it in their mouth. A long minute went past in a silence that could have been cut with a butter knife. You plucked the thermometer out again, squinted at it, then stood from your crouched position.

"I need some better light. Papyrus, will you watch Frisk for me? And, uh, get them a blanket. I promise I'll explain what's up in just a minute."

"DID THEY EAT HUMAN? IS THAT WHY THEY SPIT IN THE TOILET? DID IT MAKE THEM SICK?"

"Something like that. I'll be back in just a minute, buddy." You gave Frisk a surprisingly tender pat, then walked briskly into the kitchen, Sans at your heels.

You put the thermometer on the counter, then began looking through the cupboards, on top of the fridge, even under the sink for the three hundredth time. Sans watched you for a moment in silence, then sighed.

"so?"

"Frisk's got a fever of 100°. I'm 98% sure it's the flu."

"alright, what's the flu."

"The flu- short for influenza- is a disease that can cause headache, nausea, sore throat, nasal congestion, body aches, and, you guessed it, fever. Well, not cause, more bring on, it's the body that's making all the bad shit happen..."

"so it's not good."

"Nope. It's very uncomfortable and can even be painful. Most of the time is painful."

"alright. so is it deadly?"

You sighed, stopping in your scavenging. "It... can be. If left untreated, the host can eventually, well, die. It's not a pleasant experience." You put up a hand sharply when Sans went to say something. "However! I think Frisk should end up fine. They're an otherwise healthy kid, got food to eat, people to look after them... If we go about this the right way, they should end up fine."

"so what's with the stressed out look you've got going on."

"First of all- gee, thanks. I know that's just a nice way of saying I look like garbage. Second- on the surface, when a kid gets the flu, they tend to either be taken to a doctor and get a prescription medication, or get an over the counter medication. Point is, medication. We... probably don't have any down here. Or at least, none that would help. Granted, most stuff people give their kids doesn't actually kill the disease- just kind of... suppress the symptoms..." You trailed off, staring off into space blankly.

"alright. so... what do we do?"

You hummed, scratching at your cheek again. "I'm not certain, to be honest. Do you guys have painkillers or cold medicine? Tea would help, too... Soup, as they're too queasy to keep much down... Lots of water... and rest... Ginger ale, maybe..." You trailed off, mumbling to yourself as you stared off into space again. 

"don't know. might have some in the shop. sometimes stuff falls from the surface. probably have golden flower tea. i'd have to look."

"Mm." You stared intently into the air for a minute more, then pushed yourself upright and headed back into the living room, Sans at your heels. 

Frisk was huddled into a corner of the sofa, wrapped tightly in a blanket, a box of tissues at their elbow. Papyrus was resting his head on the arm of the sofa, crouched in a very broken looking position as he stared intently at Frisk as they sniffed loudly. You sat carefully beside them, running your fingers through their hair soothingly.

"Hey, buddy. How ya feeling?"

Frisk sniffed, then croaked out, "I'm okay. Kinda thirsty."

"Sure thing, bud." You made eye contact with Sans, and he trailed back into the kitchen, though stayed tuned to the living room. 

For a minute, it was quiet. Then you sighed.

"Papyrus, I apologize, but I lied to you. On multiple occasions."

"ABOUT WHAT?" A small gasp of mingled shock and disbelief. "DO YOU SECRETLY THINK MY COOKING ABILITIES ARE MAGNIFICENT RATHER THAN GREAT?"

You chuckled breathily. "No. Papyrus, Frisk and I are humans."

Sans came back just in time for Frisk to look at you in mingled shock and confusion. He passed them a glass of water, which they sipped slowly, keeping their eyes on you, though glancing at Papyrus every so often.

Papyrus was very quiet.

"... You're not gonna eat us, are you? I suppose I understand, but I do value your friendship and hope it exceeds your hunger."

"NO. I WONT EAT YOU." Another long bout of silence.

"... You're mad?"

"NO. BUT I WISH YOU HAD TOLD ME."

"... When you first suspected we were human, didn't you want to eat us? Wasn't that your first urge?"

"... I SUPPOSE."

"But now that you consider us your friends, you don't want to, right?"

"NO. I LIKE YOU TOO MUCH. YOURE MY FIRST HUMAN FRIENDS."

"All is fair in... friendship and not being eaten. I'm sorry, really, but I prefer not being eaten."

"I WISH I HAD BEEN ABLE TO BRAG THAT I HAVE HUMAN FRIENDS. HUMANS ARE UNCOMMON, BUT NO ONE EVEN KNOWS HUMAN FRIENDS CAN EXIST!"

"Uh, Papyrus- please don't tell anyone."

"... WHY NOT?"

"Your first idea was to eat us, yeah?"

"YES."

"Then, if you tell anyone else, what will their first idea?"

"... EAT YOU, PROBABLY."

"Yeah."

"OKAY, I WON'T TELL ANYONE..."

"Thank you, Papyrus."

"... UNDYNE WON'T BE VERY HAPPY, THOUGH."

You seemed slightly confused by the name drop, but apparently decided now wasn't the time. "So long as whoever that is doesn't know, they have nothing to be upset about. But, Papyrus, listen. I'm telling you this because Frisk needs your help."

Papyrus was quickly at attention, jaw hanging open excitedly as he repositioned himself, eager to please. 

"Frisk had gotten a human illness and needs some things to make them feel better. Alright? They're going to need cold medicine, pain relievers, and tea. If you can't find tea, then... I've heard pine needles can be brewed, but that's for vitamin c... Actually, also get pine needles. Just a handful should suffice. Do you think you can do that for us?"

Papyrus nodded enthusiastically, quickly scrambling to his feet and practically lunging out the door. You sighed, and Sans realized how tense you had been. Sans edged toward the doorway.

"i'm gonna go with him. make sure he doesn't..." 

You just nodded, rubbing your forehead as you stood. "Sure. We'll be alright. Be safe." 

You didn't seem to realize exactly what was coming out of your mouth, pacing absently back and forth. Frisk blinked at you several times in surprise, then met Sans' gaze. They laughed weakly at whatever expression had found its way onto his face, and he quickly ducked out the door. It shut solidly behind him, and, with a click of his fingers, it locked.

 

"ya think that's enough, Papyrus?"

Papyrus, mouth full of a huge array of pine needles, nodded enthusiastically as he trotted alongside his older sibling. They had found something that said 'pain relief' on the side and had a few pills rattling around inside, a beat up can of soup, and a box of slightly aged golden flower tea. Papyrus looked incredibly proud of himself.

Sans eased the door open slowly, trying to ease its usual creak. He cast a glance around, aware of Papyrus leaning over his shoulder, then paused.

You were slowly pacing the living room, swaying a dozing Frisk in your arms, humming softly. The melody was soft and soothing. Sans thought he'd heard you humming it before, but always too low for anyone to really catch. Frisk was half-bundled up in the blanket Papyrus had gotten for them, and there was another, accompanied by a pillow, on the sofa.

You brought a hand up and smoothed Frisk's hair, and they clung to your shirt tighter. You rested a cheek against their forehead softly, a soft sigh ruffling their hair slightly. Frisk rested their head beside your collarbone, looking ready to fall asleep.

Sans edged inside, and for once Papyrus had the sense to stay relatively quiet as he trotted inside behind him. You glanced up and nodded to them, shifting over to the couch and lowering a reluctant Frisk, bundling them safely in the other blanket. They blinked sleepily at Sans and Papyrus for a moment, then decided it would be more worth it to try and go to sleep.

You waved the skeletons into the kitchen, and there investigated the goods they had brought. Sans was vaguely surprised at how quickly you had taken control of the household without him truly noticing it. Papyrus was rattling with excitement, waiting to see if he had done a good job for his very first human friends.

You ran a thumb along the thin lines of minuscule text on the pill bottle for a minute, eyes squinted. "Well," you finally started, and Papyrus started fidgeting, "you got everything I asked you to. Thanks, guys. ... You did great, Papyrus." 

You shot Papyrus a quick smile to placate him and he probably would have crawled all over the walls and made a ruckus if Frisk hadn't been feeling so poorly and he hadn't been seeking your human approval. (Everything was different now that you were a human, apparently.) As it was, he bounced on the heels of his hands excitedly.

You set some water on the stove, waiting for it to boil as you read over the can of soups instructions and small print again. Papyrus quickly grew bored and shambled into the living room to investigate Frisk's condition. Sans lurked in the kitchen, feeling oddly useless and awkward.

"If I'm honest, I'll say I'm not sure if this medicine is in prime condition. Worst comes to worst, it doesn't work and Frisk feels kinda bad until they get better." You shrugged, and started scrounging around in the drawers for something. After a moment, your expression fell to one of unamusement, and you picked something up as if to show it to Sans. "Do you guys literally just have torture devices laying around? What is this, even? God damn..."

You trailed off, muttering under your breath before coming up with a can opener and setting back to work again. It didn't take long for water to be boiling and soup to be set in its place. You rinsed the pine needles thoroughly, then turned to two mugs you had set out already (Had you memorized their kitchen, or had it taken you time to find those?). 

You worked diligently enough, with both an air of business and of familial concern. You let the tea bag soak for a while, but you took the time to snap the pine needles before submerging them in the other steaming mug. You left the pine needle tea as you tapped a single white pill into your palm, picking up the golden flower tea as you headed for the living room.

"Move over, Papyrus. Certified almost doctor coming through." You sat beside Frisk on the sofa, helping them into a sitting position before offering them the mug of tea. "Ever had tea before?" When Frisk nodded, sipping it cautiously, you smiled. "Alright, good. Careful, it's hot. Ever taken pills before?" You winced sympathetically when they shook their head, suddenly scrunching up their nose.

You flipped the pill idly in your hand. "It's gonna feel weird, but it's small and should go down easy. What you're gonna do is take a mouthful of tea, tip your head back, drop the pill in, and swallow. Yeah, I know, it doesn't sound fun, but do you wanna go around having a headache all day?" You held out the pill, eyebrows raised just slightly.

After a moment, Frisk made a face and gingerly picked up the pill. It took a moment of coaxing and egging on, but they eventually attempted to down it, accompanied by much gagging and face making. You chuckled- quietly enough for Frisk not to hear, but loud enough for Sans to realize the kid was being dramatic-, then patted their back and stood again.

Frisk didn't seem very excited by the idea of pine needle tea.

"Yeah, I know, it's not something you drink every day, but it'll sooth your throat or something. Don't give me that look. Okay, how about this, would you rather drink it all now and get it over with, or have to drink it later and end up with pine tea flavor stuck in your mouth for hours afterwards?" 

The look on Frisk's face as they chugged the pine tea told Sans all he really needed to know about it. 

They looked kinda queasy over the soup, but you coaxed them into a few mouthfuls before letting them lie down again, apparently tired. And people thought Sans was lazy...

 

The day passed with you lurking around Frisk, checking their temperature and asking them how they were feeling every few hours. Sans spent the day dozing, waking up enough to catch how Frisk said they were feeling, then dozing off again. Papyrus was eyeing you or Frisk curiously, if somewhat close for comfort, every time Sans roused himself. At one point, Sans woke to you letting Papyrus play idly with your fingers, as if testing what humans were like and how they worked alive. You would tell Papyrus to ease up if anything hurt, and it seemed that at times he was gingerly testing the boundaries of human skin in some areas before you would tell him to stop or tug your hand away to get the message across.

Night was sinking everything into darkness, save for the warm glow of the lamp. You were perched on the edge of the sofa, gently smoothing Frisk's hair with the flat of your palm, untangling it with your fingertips. Your sleeves were rolled up, and while you looked tired, you also looked relatively relaxed, making Sans feel they were in the clear, at least for now. Frisk blinked at you, slowly waking from yet another nap. You smiled.

"Hey, bud. How're ya feeling? Need anything?"

Frisk shook their head, then paused. "Tell me a story."

You blinked, apparently caught off guard. "W-what?"

"Tell me a story!" 

You certainly had Papyrus' attention now. He put his head on the arm of the sofa beside Frisk's head, fingers tapping excitedly. You glanced between them, then chuckled in defeat. "Uh, alright. I'm not a stellar storyteller, but, uh..."

"Story! Story!" Papyrus hissed excitedly, bones rattling slightly as he shifted. Frisk was smiling groggily.

"Uh, alright. Um."

"Once upon a time." Frisk prompted you, voice raspy. You chuckled, running a hand through your hair. You either didn't notice or didn't care about the loose strands that clung to your fingers. You shook them off absently.

"Once upon a time, uh, there was a great and determined human, Frisk the- Frisk the Mighty." Frisk seemed pleased with this development.

"And their guardian, (Y/N) the human!" They rasped, coughing through their grin. You chuckled, looking almost flustered.

"R-right, and their guardian, (Y-Y/N) the human. Um, one day, Frisk and their guardian fell into a big, vast under world filled with lots of spooky creatures." You coughed, looking uncertain with how to go about telling a story. Frisk seemed to be enjoying it, however. "H-here, in this- uh, that under world, Frisk the Mighty made friends with some of its inhabitants- Papyrus the Great," Papyrus grinned yet more excitedly when you looked pointedly in his direction, drooling slightly, "and, uh..." You stared hopelessly at Sans for a moment, and he noticed a bead of sweat run down your neck. He came to the conclusion that you didn't like to be put on the spot. "Sans." You finally said, apparently giving up on giving him a title.

Frisk giggled, and Papyrus wiggled, shifting into a more comfortable position.

"And- and, uh, Frisk the Mighty, with their newfound friends, got into many scary but exciting adventures, like- like the day they met Cerberus, the two- three headed dog."

"What happened?" Frisk breathed, looking groggy but enraptured nonetheless. You smiled, looking almost defeated.

"Frisk the Mighty, their guardian, and their friends went e-exploring one day..."

 

You looked more tired than Frisk by the time Papyrus had dragged himself up to his room and Frisk had nodded off again. Your stories weren't bad, if somewhat awkward in their presentation, and it seemed to placate Frisk and Papyrus. Sans had a feeling Frisk the Mighty would be returning soon enough, whether you liked it or not. You didn't seem sure what to do with his character, and he was only mentioned during the beginning and near the end.

You were seated on the opposite end of the sofa from Frisk, head propped up in a hand as you nodded off. Sans felt he should offer you somewhere more comfortable to sleep- but where? His room? As if. He settled for draping you in a spare blanket before shuffling up the stairs himself.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward??? Awkward.
> 
> I'm very tired so uh
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns, prompts or whatever??? Leave it in the comments!!


	12. Babes in the wood

Frisk got better, just as you promised. 

It took several days, each day filled with doses of tea and pills and temperature checking and Papyrus curiously probing about your living human anatomy and not very many stories of Frisk the Mighty (you didn't seem to think you were very good at it, despite Frisk's coaxing), but by the end of a week, the only lingering signs of it were a sniff and a cough. Sans felt a sense of relief; this run was proving to be... something. Something he didn't want to lose. Not yet. He was curious to see where it would go.

Besides, you were interesting. A part of him was hoping you would stick around a bit longer.

 

You were thumbing through a book you'd found on the skeletons' shelf, humming over the diagrams and maps. It was a rough bringing-together of several documents trying to map and get a solid image of what the entire underground looked like. It didn't seem the most dependable source, but it looked like there were two more chambers, and, beyond them, the barrier...

You looked down, faintly startled, when Frisk tugged on the end of your shirt. They were bouncing on the heels of their feet, clearly eager about something. You raised your eyebrows at them.

"Can I go outside today?" They blurted, clutching at their sweater excitedly. You sighed, bemused.

"Bud, you've still got a case of the sniffles."

"Come ooooooon!" They whined, beating your side lightly with their firsts. You chuckled, putting the book back in its dusty place.

"Bud..."

"You said I could when I was feeling better! I'm feeling better /now/!"

"Buddy, I don't think it's the smartest thing in the world to do. The cold might just make you worse again. Besides, monsters might smell your cooties or something. Do you really want a hoard of hungry creepy crawlies coming and busting down these guys' door?" You lightly tapped their sides with wiggling fingers for emphasis, making them twist away and giggle. They tried to look grumpy, then suddenly brightened and raced away. You raised an eyebrow at their departure, but turned back to the bookshelf.

The sound of heavy footsteps stopping nearby made you glance up. Sans was standing a few feet away, eyeing you with that usual lazy, blank look on his face. It was hard to read expression on a face of bone, but you thought he seemed curious. You turned back to the bookshelf, tugging out a different book- this one about something called the Core.

"You guys have a pretty ratty thing with properly documenting stuff, y'know? All this stuff seems like it was written as an after thought, then cobbled together from multiple people's cliff notes." You huffed, half amused, half exasperated. There was a lot of holes in the information you had gathered...

"remembering stuff ain't first on our list of things to do every day." Sans grumbled, continuing to wherever he was going- which turned out to be up the stairs. You hummed in response, fairly certain he caught every little noise you made, even if you didn't want him to.

You had trailed off and found yourself rinsing out and drying mugs by the time Frisk reappeared, launching themselves at your midsection and latching their arms around you tightly. You staggered, then twisted and rested your hands idly on their head of surprisingly soft, dark hair.

"Whoa there, bud, careful, you almost... What /are/ you wearing?"

They pulled away and spun, then grinned at you toothily as Papyrus came lumbering up behind them, drooling happily. It looked like knit goods had exploded all over them- from a hat with a fluffy ball sitting on top to a scarf about three times longer than it needed to be. You could barely strangle a chuckle.

"Now I won't get cold and since this is Papyrus' stuff, they won't be able to smell me!" Frisk planted their hands on their hips, clearly pleased with themselves and determined to go outside. You tried to sigh exasperatedly, but you couldn't hide the laugh behind it.

"Alright, my hands are tied. I'll take you on a short walk in the woods, but we head back as soon as I say so. Deal?"

"Deal!" Frisk stuck out their hand, and Papyrus, clearly wanting to be a part of the action, stuck his head in the way when you went to shake it. You laughed, patted his head to please him, then shook Frisk's hand around him. 

"Alright. Let me get my coat on."

Papyrus had to stay behind to organize something or other in his room, and as Sans had yet to appear again, you and Frisk ended up going alone after you made sure your 'antlers' were on straight. Frisk wasn't thrilled about them, but you ended up saying you wouldn't let them go if they didn't wear them.

The air was crisp and cold and wonderful, and it felt like it had been ages since you'd gotten fresh air or been anywhere other than that dingy house. To be frank, that place didn't smell the best. Kinda like old spaghetti and stale chips mingled with rotting smell... Also kinda dusty. Yeah, not the best.

You ducked carefully below a branch, trying to keep an eye on Frisk as they leaped into a small hill of snow. "Slow down, bud. Not everyone is as young and spritely as you are."

"Maybe you're just old."

"Wow, rude. Back in my day, kids had more respect in one pinkie than you have in your whole body. Uphill. In the snow. Both ways."

Frisk laughed. "What?!"

"I can't remember, my memory is failing me in my old age."

Frisk blew a raspberry at you, then had to stop to cough.

Your legs had begun to burn and struggle against the snow before very long. You tried to reason that you just hadn't been out of the house in a while, but a large part of you knew that wasn't the real problem. You had to stop, propping yourself up with one hand on a frost bitten tree. There was a faint mist in the air. There was a gurgling sound, like water running nearby.

"Already, bud, let's stop for a second, then we're turning back." You puffed, shifting into a more comfortable position. Frisk whined, but stopped and started drawing in the snow with mitten-clad hands. "How're ya feeling, bud?"

"I'm okay! Kinda cold."

"Yeah, me too."

A few minutes passed. Eventually, you caught your breath and straightened, shoving your hands in your pockets. "Alright, let's head back." 

"Okay."

So you turned and started retracing your steps. You were whistling, feeling fairly content for the first time in a while. Frisk jumped and hit a branch with their out stretched hands, knocking the snow loose just in time to miss it. It landed with a soft pumf-ing sound.

A branch snapped somewhere ahead of you, and you stopped. 

Coming shambling out from behind a small cluster of trees were two monsters.

No- not two, but one, connected by a long, thin tail. Their pitch black skin- it tricked your eyes to look at, like holes in the air- stood out starkly against the frost bitten background. They lifted their heads, then shifted onto two feet. They were almost humanoid in shape. In place of ones face was a pale pink heart, the others a pale gray-green triangle. 

Frisk shifted backward, clearly uncertain and afraid of the new arrivals. Please let them pass by. Please let them pass by.

They sniffed the air, then made a rumbling sound.

Either both of them spoke, or there was a lot more echo around here than you remembered:

"A human... A human... Humans..." They muttered, then grinned, splitting their nonexistent faces with far too many teeth. You grabbed Frisk and pushed them slightly behind you, putting up one hand.

"Hey, this doesn't have to-"

They raised their hands, then slashed them down, and a rain of dagger-like black slivers seemed to slice suddenly through the air, narrowly missing your feet. You lurched backwards, Frisk's shriek muffled by your jacket as you pressed them closer to you. You grabbed a handful of snow from a low laying branch and flung it at the creatures in some sort of defense. It splattered against ones face, and it violently shook it off, hissing furiously. They stepped closer, jaws seeping colorful drool as they made small clicking noises. They jabbed at the air again, and yet more black shards materialized to cut through the air. 

You ducked to the side, gripping Frisk tightly in an attempt to protect them- and breathed deeply, trying to remain calmly. Your hands were shaking. Should you run? But where? Was the mist getting heavier or were you loosing your mind?

You staggered farther away as they chattered excitedly, sounding like birds with raspy voices as they trailed after you, hands raised eagerly. 

"Stay back! Both of you! All of you!" You threatened, trying to pull an intimidating glare, but it was hard when your breathing hitched mid sentence. They raised their hands once again-

One of them suddenly staggered to the side as brittle white shards embedded themselves in their side, a splatter of pale liquid that you could only assume was their blood staining the snow. They seemed caught off guard, but turned their head and shrieked at whoever had attacked them, moving lopsidedly sideways. Please don't say there was a bigger threat...

Sans came looming out of the trees from the direction the projectiles of (what you now realized was) bone had come from, and the duo-monster hissed together, one of them backing away, the other looking ready to fight. The green-faced one gargled and stepped threateningly closer to the skeleton, and Sans swept a hand up in their direction. You were holding your breathe, mind filled with a static-like buzzing. A line of bones broke through the snow, catching the injured one in the side and sending it staggering to the side. 

It cried out in pain. 

You blinked, chest lurching, and made to move Frisk farther behind you, eventually half twisting to bury their head in your abdomen, your elbow pressing harshly into your side. 

The tail connecting the two lashed. Your breath was stuck in your throat. The pink-faced one, drooling and breathing heavily and bleeding cotton candy blood onto the snow, shrieked at Sans and took a stumbling step in his direction, raising a hand as if to strike back.

A heavy crunch sounded through the air as Sans brought a thick bone- as big around as your arm- down upon its head, and it crumpled in a heap in the syrupy snow. The green one lurched harshly backwards at the sound, looking shocked and frightened. It bristled as Sans loomed closer, weapon heavy in his hands. 

He took a small step. You realized one of his eye sockets was blazing with light.

Another step. Bubblegum liquid ran down the club in his hand.

Another step. He raised it a fraction, looking down at the two monsters through dark, dark sockets. They were suddenly dwarfed by his size.

The green one glanced frantically around, on all fours now. It stood over its twin and hissed in Sans' direction, then gingerly picked up its unconscious other half and dragged it a few feet, leaving streaks in the snow. It dropped them to shriek at Sans when he made another step in their direction, fingers shifting around his weapon. It snarled like a cornered animal when he stopped again, then gripped its twin around the small of its back and dragged them hastily away. 

The silence, after its grunting and stumbling in the snow faded, was deafening. 

You realized your shaking fingers were curled harshly into Frisk's hair, gripping their skull like a lifeline. You slowly, slowly released them, scared to move. You could feel their tears, warm and wet through your coat. There was a lump in your throat.

Sans stood ominously still, staring at the place the monsters had been, for what felt like a long time. Finally, he squeezed the bone club in his fingers and it dissolved into the air. He twisted, and he looked very different when concern was twisting his features. You thought you could still see the shadow of the blazing light in one of his sockets. You were breathing far too heavily. You forced yourself to blink, eyes burning. Your toes were numb, the cold chewing at your calves like phantom teeth. His features softened and he lifted a hand toward you, moving to come closer.

Frisk flinched and whimpered when he stepped closer, crying freely into your stomach. He stopped, suddenly looking appalled. His gaze shifted to you, then to Frisk. He hesitated, then stuffed his hands into his pockets and turned away the slightest.

"y'alright?" He muttered, suddenly not looking at you. 

You tore your gaze away from the scene, trying to ignore the silvery pink pools slowly melting the snow. You pulled Frisk away from you, keeping your arms close to your sides as you stroked their hair away from their face. They were weeping, sniffing and hiccuping softly. You hushed them softly, but your own voice wasn't in stellar condition. It sounded oddly raspy. You could feel each pulse of your heartbeat beneath your skin. You tried to stop your hands from trembling. It was hard to ignore.

"You... okay, buddy?" You took a deep breath, trying to quell your twitching muscles.

Frisk shook their head, sparing a frightened glance in Sans' direction before hiding in your stomach again. You forced back a wince, breath oddly wobbly.

"A-alright. You-you'll be okay." You patted them softly, straightening and covering them with one arm, the other still pressed to your side. 

Sans shifted from one foot to the other, still not meeting your gaze. "let's... get back to the house."

"R-right." 

The walk was suddenly much longer, though that may have been due to the thick atmosphere and your staggering, uneven footsteps. Frisk clung to you like glue, trying to keep you between Sans and themselves. Sans had the lower half of his face buried in the fur of his hoodie and didn't say a word the whole way back. 

By the time you stumbled inside, you were exhausted and cold sweat was running down your neck and forehead and you never wanted to just collapse on the spot more in your life. You got Frisk on the sofa and draped a blanket over them with a shaking hand. They hid behind a pillow, still teary and clearly frightened of Sans. Sans lurked quietly by the doorway to the kitchen, still not making a peep. You shuffled over to him, catching his eye only for a moment.

"S-o... Uh... Do you th-think they'll, uh..." Your voice sounded foreign to you, hoarse and almost choked. It was hard to form sentences when your throat was tight and you were trying to stop your legs from quivering. Sans cut you off, shaking his head.

"no. they're from Waterfall. don't talk to anyone anyway. 'sides, they'll be in hiding for a while. scared." He was muttering, voice low and quiet. 

"A-ah. W-well, uh... T-thanks." You kept your voice low for the last part, then swallowed hard and called out to Frisk, voice not wobbling so much. "Hey, b-bud? You want some tea?"

They sniffed, then nodded into their pillow. You nudged Sans with your elbow a little harder than you meant to, and he went into the kitchen without a word. That done, you made a beeline for the bathroom. 

The door slammed a bit harder than you meant for it to. You were panting now, fingers gripping the sink as you dragged yourself past it. Every heartbeat was agony that made your vision threaten to blur and split. You sat heavily on the edge of the tub, and only then did you pull your arm away from your side to roll up your coat and shirt to reveal the jet black shard embedded in your side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Monster mentioned is one I made up off the top of my head. Forgive me.
> 
> Look out for blood mention and the like next chapter! I'll post a content warning before it, but doubling up can't do much harm. 
> 
> Anyway, I'm kind of excited for this mini-arc, so I might post chapters kind of quickly the next few days. I hope you enjoyed this chapter!! It's actually the first of two parts that were a bit long to be a single chapter.
> 
> Comments, questions, concerns? Ideas, prompts?? Leave them in the comments!!


	13. the stinging of tears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blood mention, btw!! Look out for that. ;0 If requested, I can summarize the chapter in chapter notes!

You had a wad of toilet paper pressed to the wound by the time you realized you needed a plan of action. You were trying to form a coherent thought when something thumped against the door, causing you to flinch and then hiss as the throbbing pain spiked. You looked up, squinting at the door.

"U-uh, what's up?" You croaked out, trying hard to focus. Ten fingers, ten toes. You're in one piece. The wound isn't that bad. Deep breaths.

There was snuffling from the other side of the door, causing it to rattle slightly. "LARGER HUMAN? WHY IS LITTLE HUMAN CRYING? WHY ARE YOU IN THERE?" 

You ground your teeth, trying to think of an answer. "U-uh, it's, uh, it's kinda hard to- kinda hard to explain- right now..." You swallowed, closing your eyes tightly for a moment. Think. What to do. You couldn't leave this room, not bleeding and weak and incoherent. For all you knew, the smell of blood would provoke Papyrus or Sans, or worse, both... 

Think. What did you need? What would you do if it had been Frisk who'd been hit?

You blinked, thoughts gradually returning. "H-hey, Papyrus..."

 

Sans took his time making the tea, not quite wanting to go out and face a crying Frisk and apparently shaken up you. He felt something sickeningly like guilt curled around his nonexistent gut; he'd never had to openly hurt another monster in front of the kid before, but this time, he'd had no choice. Hadn't he?

He shuffled out of the kitchen, steaming mug clutched the slightest bit too tightly in his phalanges, several minutes later. Frisk was still curled up on the couch, hugging a pillow tightly, but it seemed you had vanished. One glance told him Papyrus thought you were in the bathroom. Maybe you couldn't bear to face him, either. The sick feeling in his nonexistent gut curled yet tighter, but he tried to ignore it. 

He made eye contact with Frisk, and they hastily slid off the couch, hugging the pillow in one arm and the other clutching the blanket tight around their shoulders. They trotted over, stumbling over their own feet, to stand beside Papyrus, and Sans sighed, putting the mug on the coffee table before shuffling over to see what the ruckus was about.

"H-hey, Papyrus..." Your croaky voice came from the other side of the door, sounding as raspy as it had when you last spoke to Sans. 

Papyrus titled his head curiously, pressing his face against such the door. "YES, HUMAN?"

"I, uh, I need you- I need you to get... some stuff for me." There was a tangible pause. "Um. I, um... Ha... Water! Warm water. Really- really warm. Like, hot. And, uh, r-rubbing alcohol. Or- peroxide. M-maybe bleach if, if you have it. And, uh, and... a rag. Or s-small towel. Um. A-aha..." You trailed off, and there was a sound of rustling clothes and a hiss. 

Sans raised an eyebrow, squinting a socket at the door. You sounded very distracted. Even your voice was taut, like a frayed string ready to snap. What on earth could you possibly be doing...?

Papyrus lifted himself onto his feet, then ducked under the kitchen's doorframe, apparently happy he was able to help in some way. Frisk shifted on their feet, eyes red and puffy and nose running. They lifted a hand, hesitated, then lightly tapped the door. 

"(Y-Y/N)?" They called, voice nasally from crying. There was rustling from the other side of the door. A heavy breath.

"Y-yeah? Y'okay, bud?" The door remained closed.

"I guess... What's going on?" They sounded confused. So maybe this wasn't a normal human thing to do after an attack. 

There was a long silence from the other side of the door. Then, 

"Uh, hey, bud, you think you can get something for me?" 

"I guess."

"Y-you know that needle and thread I used to fix your sweater?" A long, shaky breath.

"Yeah?"

"I, un, I need that, but- but before you give it to me, I need- I want you to have Papyrus help you dunk them in boiling water for a minute first. Okay?" 

"Okay..." Frisk sounded confused, then walked over to the sofa, put down their pillow, and headed for a closet at the top of the stairs. 

Just then, Papyrus reappeared, arms full of a mishmash of items. He pushed his face against the door, sniffing as if hoping to learn something that way. "HUMAN? I HAVE WHAT YOU ASKED FOR!" 

There was a long quiet, then shuffling. The door clicked, then opened a fraction. "A-alright. Pass them to me." 

Papyrus dropped a rag into your outstretched hand, which was oddly pale and shaking the slightest. You had trouble with the jug of bleach, making a small noise of discomfort when it caused your arm to sink a few inches. The bowl of steaming water gave you another struggle, and Sans heard you hiss when it sloshed and ran down your hand. 

"Thanks, Papyrus." The door shut again. It clicked, locking. 

Frisk came back down the stairs, dragging the blanket behind them as they clutched the needle and spool of thread in one hand. They tugged hesitantly on Papyrus' hand, then led him into the kitchen. Sans waited a minute, then edged closer to the door and rapped his knuckles against it.

"W-what?" You strangled a groan, and something- clothes?- fell softly to the floor. 

"it's Sans. y'alright?"

A long silence. "Y-yeah." 

Water splashed. There was another splash, and the smell of bleach filled the air. The water stopped. The smell of bleach remained, strong in his senses. 

He couldn't think of anything to say that didn't sound accusatory or just wrong on the tongue. Several minutes later, Frisk and Papyrus reappeared, clutching the needle and thread. You took them with the same pale, shaking hand, making a small noise at their apparent heat. Again, the door closed and locked.

 

You swallowed hard around the wad of cloth in your mouth, then spat it out as the black shard clattered to the floor like a piece of broken glass. You peaked beneath the rag to find the blood had slowed to a general stop. 

You tried to quell your pounding heart as you dabbed at it with the peroxide again, hissing at the scorching sensation. You'd heard it hurt, but Jesus... Your blood felt hot and slick like oil on your fingertips. The wound was red and raw and soft and meat-like, nothing you weren't used to. At the least, it didn't look like anything important had been hit...

You let your head fall back, neck sore from looking down, and took a few deep breaths, trying to focus on how cold the walls of the bathtub felt around you. After a moment, you stuffed the wad of shirt back into your mouth again, picking up the threaded needle. 

It was going to be a long night.

 

At first, Frisk and Papyrus had set up to wait for you to come out, but first five minutes passed, then ten, then fifteen, and eventually they grew bored and moved away to draw in the corner. Frisk still moved around Sans in wide arcs and refused to look at him without hiding behind something afterwards, whether it be Papyrus or a blanket or the pillow they had reclaimed. It didn't make Sans feel much better, having to wait for you to come out and find out whether you sided with them and he was the monster to be afraid of or if you thought he was in the right for coming to your rescue.

Based on how you were acting, it was the former, despite your thanks.

Evening had come, but Papyrus seemed to be the only one that was hungry. He ended up curling up in a position that suited a dog but didn't look right for a skeleton and dozing off while waiting for someone to announce that dinner should be made. Frisk was drawing something that resembled the monster from earlier, a frown unsettling their features. Sans kept a respectful distance, sitting alone on a suddenly very empty couch.

After what felt like hours, there was a small knock from the bathroom door. Sans blinked himself awake, raising a confused eyebrow at it, then stood and shuffled over. He felt like knocking back, but felt it wasn't really the time.

"yeah." He spoke, still not sure what all this was about. He could still smell the lingering scent of bleach. Your voice answered, softer and more tired sounding than before

"Um, Sans, I..." There was a long pause. A sigh. "I, um, I need a shirt. Mine's... torn." You sighed again, and he could practically see you running a hand through your hair. 

"a'ight." He turned and trudged up the stairs. It took a minute to find something, but he eventually settled on something that didn't have too many noticeable stains and wouldn't look too ridiculously big on you. 

He rapped the door with his knuckles when he returned and it cracked open. He caught a glimpse of one of your eyes before you shifted out of sight again, taking the shirt from his outstretched hand when he offered it, muttering a quiet 'thanks'. The door bounced against the frame but didn't close, easing open an inch. 

A large part of Sans knew it wasn't an invitation. The other part- the stronger part- was curious.

He eased the door open with one shoulder, casting a quick glance around the bathroom. The bowl that had been full of warm water was lying upside down on the edge of the tub, apparently empty. The rag was draped over it, looking like it had recently been thoroughly rung out, though stained a faint pink color. The needle and thread were on the sink, and lying in the basin of the sink was a shard of black, as long as one of his fingers. Around it were a few drops of bright scarlet. There was a stink of bleach heavy in the air, heavy enough to make him wonder if you had gotten woozy. Still, there was another smell, fainter and underlying, as though the bleach was smothering it. Coppery and iron scented. It almost smelled like... No. There'd been no visible injuries on you when you came in. Hadn't there?

You had already pulled the shirt past your waist, though it bunched slightly to one side as you leaned awkwardly to one side to grab a wad of paper off the floor. You looked sickly and pale, and your hair hung in sweaty strands around your face. He'd never seen you look so... dreadful. He was going to say something when he noticed a mark at the base of your lower back- something he hadn't noticed before. At first he thought it was an injury- but no. It wasn't red in the typical human injury way, but a fiery orange outlined in black, and he realized it was marked in such a way that it looked like a pair of feathery wings resting atop your skin. Huh. Without thinking, he lifted a hand and gingerly touched it with the tips of his fingers.

You flinched so hard your shoulder struck the near wall and you made a small, strangled noise of pain. You looked up, something like fear snapping in your rather red gaze, then slowly relaxed when Sans took a respectful step back. You sighed, running a hand through your hair and shaking the loose strands away.

"Jesus Christ." You wiped a hand across your face, the other loosely going to your side. "You startled me."

"you have a mark on your back." 

You blinked, then rolled your eyes the slightest as you turned away again. "Oh, that." 

"how'd it get there?"

"I lost a bet when I was young and stupid and had young and stupid friends. Not something I'm proud of, but I can't do anything about it now." You sighed, then looked at him from the corner of your eye. "Do we have any of those pain killers left?" Your voice was still thin and raspy, and you looked tired.

"i don't know. ... are you alright?"

You sighed, fingers gripping the side of the shirt slightly tighter. "... No. At least not 100%." 

"what's up?"

You hesitated, glancing at the doorway, then sighed and eased the shirt up above your waist- revealing stripes of gauze wrapped tightly around your waist, stained red on one side. You glanced pointedly in the direction of the sink, and everything clicked into place. Sans' shock must have been apparent on his face, because you quickly dropped the shirt and waved a hand as if it wasn't a big deal.

"I'm alright. A little shaken, but, uh... alright. I think I did an alright job stitching myself back together." Your fingers ghosted over where the injury was, eyes still foggy and almost distant.

"you didn't say anything."

"In my defense, for all I knew, you guys would go savage at the scent of blood or something. Plus, I... I didn't want to freak Frisk out, all right? They've been through enough today as it is."

Sans visibly winced, but didn't say anything on that matter. You picked up your shirt- which stank of bleach, Sans noticed- and poked your fingers through the slit in the side, and he realized you were grinding your teeth.

"y'need anything?"

You laughed, though it sounded broken and choppy and hollow. "Don't know if I need them, but right now I could go for a shot of morphine and a cigarette."

You stumbled and nearly fell as you made to leave the small, cramped room, and grit your teeth when he caught your arm and pulled you back on your feet. A trickle of sweat ran down your face once you righted yourself, gripping the edge of the sink in a white-knuckle fist. Sans released you as quickly as he had grabbed you, realizing how clammy your skin felt beneath his phalanges.

"y'alright? you're... cold." 

You drew several deep breaths, closing your eyes for several moments before straightening slowly. "Ah... Aha. Right. Probably, uh, shock. I should probably... do something about that." You nodded to yourself, then shuffled out of the bathroom on rather uneven steps. 

Frisk glanced up when you exited, racing up to wrap their arms around you. You winced, but forced a smile and patted their head halfheartedly. 

"H-hey, bud, easy on the hugs..." 

They gave you another squeeze, which caused you to let out a small, strangled noise, then backed away a step. "Do you want to draw with me and Pap?" 

You ran a hand through your hair, dodging their gaze. "Not... Not this time, bud. I'm gonna, uh, lie down... for a bit." 

Frisk frowned, but quickly edged away, not quite looking at Sans. 

You flung a blanket around your shoulders before you lied down on the sofa, face down and buried in your folded arms. As far as Sans could tell, it took you a while to fall asleep, and once you did, it was very troubled. He wasn't certain what to do about it, but felt slightly better about it when he threw a second blanket over you. 

 

Dark, darker, yet darker. 

The darkness kept growing. 

It was thick and sticky, but at the same time you couldn't feel it. You could see your hands and arms, all the way down to your knees- there, the shadows slowly swallowed your legs. You couldn't see your feet. This wasn't new, not really. The underground was dark. But it was strange- you could see your hands so well. As though it was meant to be perfectly light. But it wasn't.

You opened your mouth to speak, but the words clogged your throat and you couldn't force them out. You twisted and turned in place, not willing to take any steps for fearing of stepping on or into something. You couldn't remember where you were or how you got here. It was frustrating. Scraps of memories skirted along the surface of your mind, but no matter how you tried, you couldn't reach them. The silence was deafening.

Suddenly, a voice. Someone speaking your name. A question.

You whirled around. Yes- there. Others. Other humans. People you recognized! The team- your team. People you had helped. Library girl. Library girl?

They were talking amongst themselves. Your name was brought up a lot. You tried to call out to them. No matter how you tried, no noise escaped your throat. 

"(Y/N)?"

"(Y/N)?"

"Who's that?"

"I don't remember anyone with that name."

Everything was cold. Freezing. Your blood dropped below zero. Your organs turned heavy.

A hand slammed across your mouth, shoving you a step backwards. Panic. You clawed at it, a scream muffled by the long, black fingers. More appeared on infinite, stick-thin arms. Grabbed your arms. Fistfuls of your shirt. Dragged you backwards and down, down, down. The people you knew dwindled with distance. You struggled, thrashing, screaming, straining. More hands appeared and pushed down on your eyes, and down, down, down you went. Your frantically clawing hands disappeared into a thick, clinging darkness,

Down,

down,

down.

 

You woke with a lurch that pulled upwards at your chest and made your eyes fly open, fingers curling into the coarse fabric of the sofa and sweat covering your clammy but simultaneously burning skin. You tried to shift painlessly, but the movement made nausea hit you with full force and bile rise in your throat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dearest reader is gonna have one hell of a time, eh?
> 
> Comments, questions, concerns? Ideas, prompts?? Leave them in the comments!!


	14. The fabric of the mind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter doesn't start off the most pretty. Just fair warning.

You had contracted whatever illness Frisk had recently recovered from.

That, coupled with the stab wound- did they always heal so slow?-, made for a lot of troubled sleeps and time spent lying on the sofa, downing two more painkillers in the hope that they would take the edge off the pain. 

Unfortunately, you quickly ran out of pills. It was hard to hide the dull ache throbbing in your side and the vision-blurring headaches that clouded your mind, but Frisk (and Papyrus, after being told) quickly caught onto to your general state when you spent the majority of one morning groaning into a trashcan as you brought up what little you had eaten and several mouthfuls of stomach acid. The taste clung to your teeth and made you wake up wincing. There was a blunt throbbing behind your eyes every time you tried to read by the light, but it was killing you to spend so much time doing... nothing. 

Frisk was still skittish around Sans, but you'd given them a quiet pep talk about how good people sometimes had to do bad things to protect things or people they cared about and it seemed to ease their nerves the slightest. Papyrus was curious about you all day, every day, but one yelp you couldn't quite strangle coupled with a stern talking to from Frisk seemed to be enough to keep him at bay- for now.

You were tired. So tired. But you'd slept for hours.

You were hungry. So hungry. But you couldn't imagine eating at any time in the near future.

You could do nothing but sleep.

 

It was dark. Darker. Yet darker. There were teeth, so many teeth, sinking into your skin, your muscles, your soft tissue, grating against your bones. So many fangs. So many hungry mouths. You screamed, tried to get them off, tried to pry them off of you without hurting them, but they were already worrying chunks of blood and sinew loose, chewing furiously at your skin. You called for help-

blood ran from your mouth in scarlet and silvery pink ribbons, clogging your throat- blood that was not your own 

\- but nobody came, a ghastly face silhouetted in the darkness. You gurgled around your mouthful of flesh and blood that burned in your throat, reaching a hand out toward the nobody, only to shriek and try to flinch away when a hand grazed your throat. Hands, hands, hands, pulling you down, down, down, a ghostly white hand with no palm reaching out, out, out for you-

 

You woke with a lurch that left a burning sensation in your chest and made your hands curl and clutch the blanket between sore fingers. You were panting and cold and sweaty and trembling and god damn, your side hurt like a bitch. Phantom pain ached throughout your body, as though chunks had been ripped out of your skin. But you were perfectly whole.

You rolled over, putting your feet on the ice cold floor reluctantly. A glance around told you the living room was empty. Neither Frisk nor Papyrus were watching a movie or drawing or playing games in the corner. Huh. Where...

You took a deep breath, and shook yourself awake. Something was cooking. Or at least, that's what it smelled like. You hadn't had an appetite in days, but it almost smelled nice, and you knew that if your stomach wasn't constantly curling in impossible knots, you would want to give whatever it was a shot, so long as it wasn't...

You blinked, then looked around again, dread sinking in your stomach and cold in your veins. Frisk wasn't anywhere to be seen. No. No way. No, they, he...

Your gaze snapped up again as something clanged in the kitchen. You could just see Sans' figure, though slightly obscured by the doorway and blurred by murky, sleep-filled vision. Something flashed, wet and scarlet, in the light. 

You knew the feeling of rage- red, hot, smoldering rage. You knew the feeling of betrayal- icy, freezing, vein-burning betrayal. But this feeling... It was like frost burn. Scorching ice crystals spread like wildfire through your veins.

It forced you to wobbly feet, mind still hazy with the darkness of sleep. You looked around the living room. 

Sitting atop a pile of papers was a pair of large scissors. They felt solid in your hand.

Sans had his back to you as your feet ghosted over the tiles, their silence aided by the socks on your feet. 

Bastard Sick bastard Low The lowest of the low They were a child They were a child No child deserved that You should have protected them You should have been there If only you hadn't been hurt If only it was only you If only they'd never fallen They didn't deserve this Bastard Sick...

Your thoughts melted and turned into one large, mind numbing buzz in your head. Your legs were trembling. You swallowed back a heave. It was freezing in here. Phantom teeth were ripping your muscles off and downing them hungry gulps.

He was tall, and large, but you had the advantage of surprise and a weapon. A sneer lifted your lips as you raised the scissors above your head, both hands now, get a lot of force behind it, the skull is strong and thick and not so easy to break-

The front door creaked, and Sans began to turn.

His eyes caught yours just as you took the chance too late, swinging your arms down hard- and what looked like a flash of panic ripped through his gaze before he turned fully, larger, stronger hands catching your wrists in a vice like grip. You pushed against him, clutching the scissors in one hand now, and he pushed you back, and now he had the high ground and you were doomed- two dead humans, now-

"We're back! (Y/N)?" 

Your blood stopped, and away melted the burning ice, and away the dark cloud blurring your thoughts went. The angry sneer dropped from your face, and the scissors fell, clattering loudly on the floor.

You twisted your head around, hands still in Sans' grip, and there stood Frisk, whole and perfectly fine, a handful of pine needles in hand. Papyrus loomed up behind them, shaking snow from his head. Frisk looked confused and concerned.

You looked back at Sans, and realized. His eyes gleamed back at you, something stony and cold slowly giving away to something else you couldn't read. First shame, then fear swamped over you, and you flinched your head away, squeezing your eyes shut, fully expecting to be struck.

After a moment, he released your wrists, and you flung yourself backwards and away from him, breathing heavy and feet staggering. You gripped your face, fingernails biting into your skin, as you spotted the scissors lying a few inches from your foot. 

"I... I thought..." You tore your gaze away from the scissors to look at the stove- something was in the oven- then looked hopelessly at Frisk. They titled their head at you, twiddling the pine needles nervously in their fingers. You hid your eyes behind your palm, trying to recollect your thoughts. Frisk's warm hand touched your side, and you flinched away, cringing at some memory of teeth in your skin. "No! No... No touching right now. Okay?" 

They looked hurt, but moved sulkily away. Your ran your hands through your hair, then took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You'd almost... Could things get much worse?

A hand touched your shoulder and you jumped, then met Sans' gaze. His face was unreadable, but his eyes didn't scream 'murder,' at least. You sighed, looking away. 

"Yeah, alright."

He steered you past Frisk and Papyrus, through the living room, and up the stairs. A part of you was faintly surprised he hadn't directed you outside and toward the shed. If your mind hadn't been so simultaneously empty and absolutely full at the same time, you would have been slightly intimidated by the fact that he was bringing you to his room- you'd never so much as been up the stairs, let alone in one of the bedrooms. 

The door didn't quite close behind him, a sliver of light illuminating a fraction of the room. It was dark and musty in there, smelling like old books and moldy pizza and dirty sheets. Humps of shadow that, judging by their shape, you could assume were clothes littered the area. The shadows in the corners were too dark to make anything out. A mattress, a mess of sheets atop it, laid in an old, chipped frame off to one side. Later, you would realize you were not surprised by the state of the room.

"you can take a seat." His voice rumbled behind you as his hand left your shoulder, moving away. 

You acted on auto pilot and sat on the edge of the bed, the heels of your hands meeting your eyes. Jesus Christ, you had almost... You could just catch glimpses of Sans' bulk through your fingers as you dragged a hand across your face, shifting through a dresser or something of the sort. You swallowed, and had to make a point of relaxing your clenched jaw. The pain in your side was a half-memory. It stung like two hells, but your nerves didn't have the energy to tell you the details. 

You sat, festering in your own screaming yet barely audible thoughts, for what felt like forever. You could feel it when Sans' form loomed above you. He didn't say anything. You didn't say anything. Then, his voice, oddly quiet in the deafening silence,

"y'alright?"

It's so far from what you were expecting- a blade across your throat, maybe a club to the head- that you laugh behind your hand. You laugh, and keep laughing. It's so funny, you can't stop! 

"... why are you laughing?"

Tears pool at the bottom of your eyelids, and for once, you let them go. They run hot like liquid metal down your cheeks, and it's such a comforting sensation, a reminder you have feelings, almost, even though you know even psychopaths can cry. You don't try to wipe them away. They dribble off your chin and run down your wrists. You're still laughing, but it's faded to a pained yet relieved chuckle. It's so foreign on your tongue.

"why are you crying?"

Finally, you swipe the tears away with the back of your hand and look at him. His face is hard to see through your tears and the dark, but he looks almost confused. He's holding something, but you can't make it out. A smile that's not driven by happiness twists your face. It feels so foreign on your lips.

"People always told me I wasn't right in the head." You speak through your chuckle, sounding so much more amused than you really are. "I always assumed it was a joke- they always said it after I told them how hard it actually is to stab someone or that breaking necks isn't like snapping candy canes or that horror movies' gore is so clearly fake... I guess thats not what they were trying to say." Another chuckle. "I really am a weird kind of twisted, eh?" 

"... what do you mean?"

"Holy /shit/, Sans." You looked at him seriously, smile no longer distorting your features. "I could have..." You cringed at yourself, looking away.

"..."

"..." You swiped the tear tracks away almost angrily. "I thought... I thought you'd... Frisk... Something was cooking... I was confused and disoriented..." You sighed, suddenly scratching furiously at your face. "I'm making excuses for myself, I almost..." You choked on the word, then forced it out, almost spitting. "I could have killed you, Sans. All in cold blood. I've hurt people before- punched back when punched, gotten struggling crack addicts in head locks, knocked out angry people in self defense- I've seen people die in my grip- but I've never come close to killing someone with my own two hands. And I came /this close/ to cracking your skull open on rotten judgment."

"... so?"

"/So/?!" 

"i would've thought less of ya if you hadn't acted on that assumption. someone who does nothing when their family is assumed murdered isn't someone who deserves respect."

"... That's a fallacy of extremes, Sans."

"point still stands."

"You're not half so murder-y as you should be right now. Does almost killing you in a half-awake state really not count as putting a step out of line?" 

He shrugged. You sighed, burying your face in your hands again. The bed dipped as he sat. God damn, you felt like shit. Literally and figuratively. You felt sick to your stomach, but more in a 'I almost killed someone' kind of way than a 'I'm going to vomit' way. (Both, really, but you couldn't care less about vomiting right now.)

After a while, Sans nudged you. You glanced up, then blinked groggily when he offered a shirt to you. 

"What...?"

"figured you might want a cleaner one." He glanced pointedly at your side, and you realized a faint scarlet blotch was smeared across it.

"Oh. Thanks." You hesitantly took the proffered shirt and stood to fling the old one off and replace it, not giving a care about him seeing; he'd already noticed your tattoo, after all. Wasn't much to see. You ran a hand through your hair, still standing. "Christ..."

"what?"

"You're being too kind, at this point. First you save my sorry ass when I put Frisk directly in danger, then the shirts, even after... I mean, not that I don't appreciate it and all, but jeez. I would have hated me by now. Maybe even offed me, if I was in your shoes, honestly."

"... i thought you didn't... thought you hated me for what happened in the woods."

"What? I couldn't care less about that. I mean, it seemed a bit excessive and I kind of hope those guys turned out alright, but I've seen way worse done in self defense. Sure, Frisk is scared, but they're a kid, I'd be more surprised if they weren't. They'll come around." You ran your curled fingers strongly over your cheeks like claws, and you could feel the buzzing sting of the red lines they left behind. "Fuck. There's a hundred things wrong with me, but I don't want this to be one of them. I can't bring myself to hate anyone at this point, alright? I've seen people do worse. Just... Jeez."

You were tired. So tired. But you just stood there, head throbbing worse then before from the tears, halfheartedly hiding your face behind a hand. The bed creaked as Sans stood. You could feel his presence, closer now.

"y'alright?"

You laugh. But it's not funny. "... No. Not really." Tears feel hot but pleasant in the bottoms of your eyelids. "I'm going to die down here. I'm going to die down here and no one's going to remember me."

There was a moment where the words hung in the air, like that perfect instant before a smoldering tree crumbles into a pile of ash and faintly glowing embers. Then you were surrounded with a surprisingly gentle, comforting embrace- Sans had brought you loosely to him with one arm, and the first thing that came to mind was that you were expecting it to be much more uncomfortable than it was. He didn't exactly smell pleasant, but you'd smelled worse. It was something you hadn't realized you'd missed- feeling protected and safe in someone's rather close presence. 

"... i'd remember you." His voice was low and quiet and sounded the faintest bit embarrassed, almost as if he was hesitant to admit it. The tears pooled and spilled over, warm and soothing on your cheeks.

You wheezed out a chuckle and let your head fall forward, barely brushing the front of his coat. Any closer and you would have been resting your forehead on his sternum. "... I appreciate that."

And for a brief moment, your existence didn't matter. His didn't matter. All that mattered was the feeling of allowing yourself to be vulnerable for the first time in weeks upon weeks.

Then you were cringing as light filled the room, quickly separating yourself from Sans' loose embrace to turn towards the door. Frisk stood there, one hand gripping their sweater, the other on the doorknob. They looked surprised but curious. You coughed, straightening and swiping the loose tears away. 

"What's up, bud?"

"... Are you okay?" They looked between you and Sans, almost in a calculative manner, but didn't budge from their spot just outside the door.

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Was just... having a moment." You walked over to stand beside them, ruffling their hair and giving them a gentle push in the direction of the stairs. They didn't look too convinced, but smiled and trotted away nonetheless. You went to follow, then paused and met Sans' gaze. "Thanks." 

He nodded the slightest. 

Frisk had made you pine needle tea. It was a quiet day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Does this suck??? I rewrote it like three times and I still can't tell,, kill me
> 
> Reader ain't having a good time
> 
> Comments, questions, concerns? Prompts, ideas?? Leave them in the comments!!


	15. sleepless nights

"I don't know, man, maybe it's just me but I've never gotten the hype of 'looking like a million bucks'. Just me let wear my sweatpants and t-shirt. No amount of expensive, uncomfortable clothing is going to make this mess look any better."

"you said 'look like a million bucks' and the first thing that came to mind was this multi-headed deer guy that lives near the northern wall and it took me a minute to realize why you would want to look like that guy."

"Nice."

It was the dead of night, and neither you nor Sans could sleep. You were both lying on the floor, side by side, since you didn't feel like sitting and there wasn't enough room on the sofa to lie together without being on top of one another. Between you stood a bottle of liquor, though you'd both stopped drinking a while ago. Sans didn't have it in him to get up and put it away. There was a pleasant buzzing in the back of his skull, and the hushed tones made him oddly more comfortable. You didn't seem to be in as much pain tonight, either.

He saw your chest expand, then fall as you took a deep breath. Your hair spread in a halo around head, and he found himself wondering if you were uncomfortable on the cold, wooden floor. There was a brief, though not awkward, silence.

"Things you hope you never have to relive again."

"like what?"

"Uncomfortable situations, embarrassing moments, things that you'd rather just forget but can't quite manage it, moments that gave you a terrible feeling, etcetera. Things like having to give your brother 'the talk' or something. You know the kind."

"'the talk?'"

"Reproduction, courting, the like. That."

"oh. that."

"So?"

"give me a minute. ... probably when i lost my first tooth. pops thought i was dying. absolutely lost his mind. secondhand embarrassment is one of the worst things. ever."

"Mm. Yeah, I can see that."

"you?"

"Probably the time I almost walked into Hanson and someone walked in just as it happened. Apparently it looked like we had kissed, and, oh my god, I thought I'd never live it down with the team. Teased me for months. No mercy, I swear."

"heheh."

"Don't laugh, you dick. Mm, library girl was another pretty awful moment. Oh, and the... thing."

"what thing this time?"

"You know. The thing... a few days ago. With the... scissors. That thing. Sorry... about that."

Sans only hummed. You had shown signs of your own disgust with yourself over the almost-stabbing incident a few days ago a lot, but Sans? He found himself not thinking too much of it, honestly. Forgiving you for it, really. In a weird way, he understood the predicament.

How many times had he walked into the kitchen to see Frisk messing with flour with Papyrus nowhere in sight and jumped to a similar conclusion? How many times had he seen them playing with his brother's scarf, alone in an empty house, and come so close sending himself back to before they fell, waiting for them all over again? And what about that time when he had acted on that surge of mind consuming emotion before Papyrus could show up and show he was well and alive? It was good that Papyrus never retained any memories of the previous goes. The kid had never realized it was Sans who'd killed them that run. They were very skittish the next run, constantly looking over their shoulder and touching the back of their neck nervously. But they never realized. Apparently, Sans was good at hiding his emotions.

He had recognized that smoldering, freezing look in your red eyes as you struggled against him, scissors clutched in a white-knuckled fist. He had recognized the disbelief and utter confusion that took its place. And the horror that had scrawled itself across your face when you met his gaze and just realized... He saw himself in you. Perhaps that's why he had forgiven you so easily. It would have been hypocritical not to. 

If he was honest, he'd say he'd thought you'd finally up and lost your mind, at first. Grief can do crazy things to people, even if it's manufactured grief. And for the first time, he'd seen you cry. It didn't make him uncomfortable, exactly, but something else. In a way, it was like how he felt when Frisk had burst into tears at the sight of him- sick and distracting and appalling. It was not a look that looked good on you, but somehow, you seemed to feel a bit better after you'd cried. Like it was something you'd finally gotten off your chest. He didn't think any less of you for crying- humans were soft and fragile and easily overwhelmed (at least most were), and if monsters sometimes just needed an outlet, he could only imagine that it wasn't much easier for humans.

Drinking and talking were a fairly okay outlet for Sans.

"... I don't know why, but whenever people asked me what my deepest, darkest fear was, I always imagined this one dream I have... I don't know what it means, but I can feel myself getting dragged down into something by a million cold, claw-like hands. It's kind of like drowning, but I've never had any problems with water..."

"hm."

"People always told me I was crazy when I told them about it. ...You got any things like that? Weird dreams that always get to you, I mean."

"... not really. just one, but i don't know if it counts."

"What's it like?"

"the underground is empty, and i'm the only one inside it. i search for hours, but there's no one. it's as if they all disappeared. poof. into thin air. the underground is very quiet when it's empty. there's no one but myself. there's also the one where i'm in some kind of void, but the empty one bothers me more afterward."

You hummed quietly, still staring at the ceiling. Lack of sleep blurred some of your words together. "Sounds to me like you have some existential fear of being alone. Abandoned, maybe. I don't know. I'm not you. But I could totally get that."

"seems like you've got something against being forgotten."

"I guess. The worst feeling is when someone you'll never forget doesn't remember you, y'know? Maybe it's just me, but that feeling always bothered me... I don't know." 

"i can understand that."

"Do you have anyone you'll never forget even though they haven't done anything of substance in your life? Like you don't even know why you-"

The stairs creaked and you broke off, blinking confusedly. You propped yourself up, but Sans just lolled his head to one side to see who it was. Frisk, rubbing their eyes and clutching a blanket, was loitering at the bottom of the steps. You grunted as you sat up, pushing the liquor bottle somewhere out of sight.

"What's up, bud? Why are you up?" 

"Couldn't sleep." 

"Join the club. C'mere." You pushed yourself over to rest your back against the sofa, opening your arms. Frisk easily climbed into your lap as Sans finally sat up. You pulled a blanket over you both as Sans shuffled over to lean against the sofa beside you. Frisk blinked groggily up at you.

"Why're you up?"

"Same as you. Plus I wanted to stay up talkin' with jaws." 

Frisk giggled, snuggling against you. You draped your arms around them loosely, head lolling. You were fighting to keep your eyes open. Frisk had already given up, dozing lightly on your chest. 

"Sleep well, bud." You murmured into their hair before closing your eyes and nodding off yourself. Sans was quick to follow you. At some point during the night, Papyrus joined you, curling up on your feet in much the same manner as a cat.

 

You woke the following morning in an awkward, sore pile of limbs, tangled in blankets.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quickie to come down off the angst high ;0
> 
> Comments, questions, concerns, ideas, prompts??? Leave them in the comments if you want!!!! 
> 
>  
> 
> im very tired


	16. Conscience

"Strike a pose. Now, see, you need to lift your arms like this and let your hands fall just a little bit- see, that's the stuff. You're getting the hang of it. You'll be a certified Drama Queen in no time." 

Frisk giggled, striking another pose, and you chuckled from your place leaning up against the counter. Papyrus was mixing something in a pot, stooped slightly to avoid the ceiling, but you could tell he was eager to get in on whatever game you and Frisk were playing- currently Frisk trying to be an over dramatic thespian, while you instructed them in how to pull it off better.

"Now, you've been shot with an arrow. How do you die? ... No, see, no gagging. The stagger back is pretty good, as is the clutching, but you'd fall faster than that. ... Yeah, that's the stuff." You laughed, applauding them lightly. You felt like a guardian in an odd way, encouraging 'your' child or 'younger sibling' on in their passions. It was a pleasant feeling, really. It'd been a long time since you'd gotten close to a kid like this. You'd babysat for a few years before, but that was before you joined the force.

"Alright, you've been challenged to a fight. Put up your dukes." You chuckled, pacing over to gently nudge Frisk's feet further apart and adjust their arms. "See, you wanna get a good, even stance, distribute your weight evenly, make it so if you're hit you won't stagger back too much. Don't clutch your fists like that- prime way to break a thumb when you throw a punch. Shift your shoulders a little bit-"

A hand suddenly fell upon your head, roughly ruffling your hair for a split second before it moved away again. You ducked, shooting an amused glare Sans' way as he made his way to one cupboard, grabbing a glass.

"teachin' a kid how to fight, eh? and i thought monsters were brutal." You scoffed loudly at this, making Frisk laugh. "how y'feelin'?"

You lightly touched your side with your finger tips. "Better than before. Finally got a good, solid scab going. Swellings gone down. Throats a little raspy, but not so nauseated, either. Overall, better than I've felt in a while." A few days had passed, and slowly the indestructible disease had ebbed. Today, at least, was a particularly good day, anyway. You leaned against the counter again. "A few days and I might be up to going outside again. God knows I want to. I think I've counted the number of stitches in that couch a hundred times."

Sans snorted, downing a glass of water. Part of you wondered how in the hell that worked. The other part knew not to question it. Papyrus had stepped away from the stove and was now tossing his head happily, slinging drool in all directions, as Frisk posed on his back, like a knight about to ride into battle on a mighty steed. 

It was a nice morning.

 

At some point, Sans wandered off to wherever he went during the day sometimes, and you, Papyrus, and Frisk were left to mess around in the kitchen for a while. Papyrus was eager to see how your 'human tastes' lined up with his 'monster dishes,' though he reassured you it had no human flesh in it. He didn't seem to understand why humans wouldn't eat human- clearly the taboos of cannibalism were lost on him- but he didn't push it more than once after he had offered you an eyeball and you had apparently looked thoroughly disgusted and disturbed. 

Eyeballs still didn't sit well with you.

"Favorite board game."

"DO PUZZLES COUNT?"

"I like Candy Land!"

"Nice."

"What about yours?"

"I think mine would have to be... Hm... Maybe-"

The front door opened much too loudly for your tastes, and you geared up to holler something to Sans about being a little more courteous about it, when someone walked in a little too loudly. They clattered and stomped as though they were a living tank, the sound of metal against metal grating on the ears. Confusion swamped over you, and you found yourself subconsciously drawing Frisk closer with one hand.

A suit of armor came into view, making its way through the living room with long, heavy strides. "Papyrus, there's been word that there's humans around here. Came to tell you this might be-"

The suit of armor stopped, and an eye flashed at you from behind the visor. Realizing this was a threat, you backed up a few paces, pushing Frisk behind you. The kitchen suddenly felt like a trap. Papyrus blinked dumbly at the monster, apparently surprised at... their(? The voice was hoarse and hard to get a read on) appearance.

A tense silence passed. A striking blue spear appeared in the monster's grip. A grimace twisted your lips as you eyed it. 

"Why are there humans in here." It wasn't a question. The voice had sunk a few levels, nearly a growl.

"We broke in!" You blurted out the words before Papyrus could speak. God knows what would happen if he told whoever this was that you were his friends. "W-we, uh, were planning on stealing their stuff! B-but! Papyrus! Trapped us...?" 

A moment of incredible tense, charged silence passed. Then, in a triumphant sneer, "Good job, Papyrus. Allow me to finish the job." They raised their weapon.

"Wait!" The loudness of your voice apparently caught them off guard, as they paused. "I-it's, uh, two against one! Surely monsters aren't so low to sink to an unfair fight?" Please work. Please work. Pleasework. Where the hell was Sans when you needed that large, lazy bastard.

The monster paused a moment longer, then summoned another spear in the other hand. "I'll even the odds, then." They sounded incredibly smug. They raised both weapons. Son of a FUCK.

You glanced frantically around, slamming a hand down on the plastic handle of a simmering pan and swinging it, catching the monster in the face with whatever was inside and making them startle and spit, one spear dissolving so they could shield their visor. You took the opportunity and, grabbing Frisk's arm, pelted out of the house, the door slamming against the wall behind you.

Where to go, where to go, where to go?! There was a band of monsters in the distance, in town. The mist... /looked/ clear.

Fuck it. 

Still gripping Frisk's arm, you bolted out into the fog, heart pounding in your ribcage. You fought to keep the adrenaline down as you thought you heard footsteps behind you. The mist faded out, and for a horrifying split second you thought you'd gotten yourselves trapped- there! A hole in the wall! No time to think. You ran through it, dragging Frisk behind you. 

Suddenly, it was less cold and more damp. No time to think.

Through one room, into the next- divided by a wide tongue of water (that glowed? It would have been beautiful if you hadn't been running for your lives), some bird monster on the other side. You swept Frisk up into your arms and launched yourself across the gap, staggered on the edge of the water, then kept running. 

Tall grass up against a cliff wall, on the other side, what looked like a fall into infinite darkness. Don't look down. You drew Frisk up against the wall, hovering a hand near their mouth to quiet their breathing. Huh. The underground's environments changed fast, didn't they? It suddenly felt pretty moderate. 

You froze, holding your breath as feet stomped above your head. Loose sand fell into your hair. You didn't dare blink. Several moments that felt like many eternities passed. The footsteps faded away. You sighed in relief- only to jump into action, dragging Frisk off again, as something landed loudly a few feet to your right- standing between you and the exit to Snowdin. 

There was so much running. Your lungs were burning. These cliffs felt so treacherous, slick with mud. Your shirt stuck to your skin. Water ran down your neck and made your hair stick to your scalp. A flower whispered something nearby. No time to breathe. 

Wooden bridges, built in all different directions, with a hundred dead ends that led to nowhere. What kind of...? 

You skidded to halt, yanking Frisk backward, as spears sprung up beneath your feet, cerulean blue in color. Metal on metal, stomping footsteps. You let go of Frisk and shoved them forward, barking out a simple order- "Don't stop! Just run!" 

And run they did. Spears sprung up around you, behind you, beside you. One grazed your arm, and you felt blood trickle down your arm. The wood felt damp and old and slick with moss beneath your soaked socks. Aha! Solid land, just a few steps-

You staggered and fell forward, hard. You frantically rolled to right yourself, only to throw out your arms just in time to catch the spear, held horizontally, bearing down on your neck. The helmet of the armor was silhouetted harshly above you, and between the slats you could see sneering teeth and the flash of a yellow eye. Your chest heaved as you frantically pushed against the weight pressing against you, muscles straining. You felt like your tendons might snap. Everything was burning with exertion. Your lungs ached for a break.

You took a heave of air, then lifted your feet and shoved them harshly upward, barely pushing the monster off of you enough for you to gain a sliver of advantage. You twisted the spear sharply, sending them staggering and rolling to one side. You pushed yourself frantically away from them, floundering to your feet.

One of their legs was slung over the edge of the bridge- no railings, either, you realized exasperatedly- and they were clawing to get back up. You paused, holding your breath- should you help them? 

Frisk called out your name, and you met the monsters gaze just as they got purchase on the wood, bringing themselves up onto their hands and knees. You twisted around and started to run just you could hear spears splintering wood. 

Run. Run. Run. Don't look over the edge. Precipice on both sides. Water running everywhere. Don't look down. Focus on the space ahead of you. Frisk's arm was in your grip again. They were staggering. Couldn't keep up. Keep going. 

It was getting steadily warmer. You were sure there was a hole in your sock. The ground was hot beneath your feet. Stones bit into your skin. Muscles burned. Staggered and stumbled, didn't fall. Legs knocked together like loose bones flung with thin sheets of skin.

Footsteps pounded behind you. You could hear their breathing, getting steadily heavier. Perhaps you had more endurance. Maybe you could wear them out. 

The atmosphere turned red and orange and burgundy in color. Something glowed, far down below. The air was heavy with heat. It didn't makes things easier. Your vision was starting to blur with fatigue, or maybe the air itself was just rippling with heat. The red hot glow below... Was that lava? You'd always wanted to see...

There was a crash behind you. You slowed to a stop, looking back. Frisk put their hands on their knees, panting nearly as heavily as you were.

The monster had collapsed. They were very still. You released Frisk's hand, telling them to stay as you crept, step by uneasy step toward the heap of shimmering metal. Once close enough, you stopped for several moments. No response. You stared at them for a moment, then back towards where you had come from.

Maybe you could back track and find your way back to Snowdin while they were out... 

But if you just left them here, what would become of them?

You looked back down at the monster. They were wheezing. They stank of sweat. They were breathing faster than you thought they should be. You frowned, indecisive. Your legs were burning with fatigue but at the same time felt oddly numb. You were in no state to make a quick escape if they woke up. 

You sighed, then knelt and gingerly lifted their head, easing the helmet off. Jesus, this was one hunk of metal. You let it fall to the side and turned their head, then winced. One of their eyes was covered with an eyepatch, but dark purple scars marred the blue scales above and below it. No wonder they were in bad condition. They appeared to be some sort of fish monster with... scraggly red hair, likely not built for the heat. Their scales were flushed (somehow? No time to think about it too much) but dry of sweat, and their single eye was scrunched as if in pain. Drool dribbled past their many pointed teeth. They were out cold.

You sighed. "Heat stroke. Curse me." You touched one of the plates of armor and winced at the heat. "Least I could do is..." 

You were gently tugging at the straps of the armor and sliding it tenderly off when you realized Frisk was at your shoulder. They looked concerned, whether it be for the monster or for you you couldn't tell. 

"I'm just... They're over heated. I'm gonna take this armor off to help them out a bit, then we're gonna hightail it to Snowdin. Alright?" 

They nodded, clearly uncertain, but helped you with tugging the metal plates off their scorching skin. Underneath was a black, rather ripped tank top and dark pants. Their hands twitched and they bore their teeth, making Frisk flinch away. You sighed again, standing and looking indecisively between the way you'd come and the fish monster. After a minute, you met Frisk's gaze and came to a silent agreement.

You slipped your arms under the monster's armpits, lifting them and staggering under their weight- not that they were exceptionally heavy; you were just out of practice, you told yourself.

"Alright, grab their legs for me. Yeah, over your shoulders like that. I'm gonna be walking backward, so help be my eyes a little bit. Ready? Okay, nice and easy..."

 

You lowered them into one of the shallow glowing pools of water, splashing water over their chest and neck. Did monsters get heat stroke...? Well, you'd treat whatever this was the only way you knew how. 

"Hey, bud." Frisk, apparently tired from the chase and then carrying your attacker halfway back, glanced up. "Could you get a few handfuls of moss for me? There should be some weird underground moss around those rocks over there..."

You'd manage to find a pool in an alcove in the wall, off of the direct path. Why were you helping this monster when you were fighting to keep your hands from shaking with fatigue? ... God only knows, at this point. A large part of you simply couldn't leave them there.

Soon you had applied soaked wads of moss to their neck and chest and were currently rubbing their arms with water in an attempt to cool them down. It gave you a chance to catch your breath and calm down a bit. Your skin had been prickling for a bit, but you'd ignored it. You glanced up, reaching with one hand to grab one ball of moss so you could re-soak it, then froze.

The monster was staring at you from a smoldering yellow gaze. 

You held their gaze, not moving as you held your breath. Several long moments passed. Suddenly, their shoulders lurched and they tried to force themselves up. You slammed a hand down on one of their shoulders, the other clamping over their mouth. You could see Frisk scramble away from the corner of your eye.

The monster struggled against you, but their movements were sluggish and uncoordinated. 

"Stop moving!" You hissed fiercely, and it seemed to catch their attention. Your chest was heaving. So was theirs. You stared hard into their eye, leaning against them harder as you spoke low but almost angrily. "You need to be still. You had a heat stroke. If you move now, you could pass out again and hurt yourself further. You need to cool off."

They stared hard into your eyes for several long, silent moments, then struggled again. You pushed yourself backwards and away from them as they managed to sit up, trying to drag themselves out of the water. They dropped their head and heaved, a trickle of sickly vomit leaving their jaws. 

You backed away a few steps as they started trying to move again, then grabbed Frisk's arm.

"Come on."

 

You ran for a while, but you were already so tired. You had no idea how close you were to Snowdin. At this rate, you felt like you would never make it. You'd slowed to a jog, then started dragging your feet at a failed attempt at a fast paced walk.

"How ya... holdin' up, bud?" 

Frisk went to say something, looking pretty tired themselves, but a twig snapped behind you. You jumped, then grabbed the back of Frisk's sweater and ducked into a hole in the cave wall. You held your breath as something- too heavy to be the over heated monster- dragged itself past the crack in the wall. 

You waited, then let out a sigh. "Y'okay, bud...?" 

Frisk was staring at something over your shoulder. You blinked, confused, then twisted. 

Two shadows were huddled against the far wall. One shifted, and a head with a pale green triangular marking appeared. It snarled softly, but made no move to attack. You realized the air stank of sick.

"You guys." You said softly in surprise, studying the forms with a sudden wave of sympathy. Your previous attackers, the ones Sans had fended off. The pink-faced one was slumped on its side, a dark, grey-magenta scab on its side. It oozed silvery pink. You were suddenly aware of the pain in your own side. 

Before you could think about it, you crept forward on your hands and knees, putting your hands up when the green one snarled sharply. You slipped a hand into your pocket and pulled out the last of your gauze. It snarled yet more harshly when you moved again.

"Hey! Look! I can help!" You lifted one side of your water soaked shirt, exposing your stained bandages. You wanted to help them. No one deserved to be hurt and in pain like that.

The green one stood over its twin for several moments more, snarling softly, then slowly, reluctantly backed away. 

It growled continuously as you easily slipped the bandages around the creature's waist, tightening it with a few tugs before tying it down. At least this way the bleeding would stop and it wouldn't get any more infected... 

You backed out of the hiding place, Frisk behind you, keeping your eyes on the monsters. The green one sniffed the gauze, then lied beside its fellow and laid its head atop where the injury was. The pink one fussed slightly, then laid still. 

You quickly ducked out of the cove, taking off at a steady trot with Frisk at your side.

"Well," you panted out, stressed and tired and on the brink of collapse, "I don't think I'll be wanting to be leaving the house any time soon."

Frisk nodded in agreement, looking troubled. You were nearing the room with the bird beside the strip of water- you'd have to wade through that, you realized with a bitten back groan.

 

Papyrus found you at the edge of the mist just as your legs finally gave out and pitched you into the snow. Frisk had him pick you up, despite your rather muffled protests, and drag you back to the house, flung over his back like some dead animal. Frisk trotted at his side, looking at you uneasily. They were holding up better than you were. You muttered something along the lines of 'I'm alright' before falling into a dazed silence.

So tired. Just wanted to sleep. Legs were so sore. Cold.

You vaguely remembered being dropped on the sofa as Papyrus sniffed at you curiously. You fought to open your eyes. Eventually, Papyrus moved away and you barely recognized Sans as you drifted off into an almost-sleep. Sleep at last. You felt yourself being lifted, but didn't have it in you to protest. The rocking of walking. A door opened and closed. Lowered onto something that was not the sofa. A heavy blanket falling over your back.

Sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rushed this and it stinks and I apologize.
> 
> I suck at chase scenes and I apologize. 
> 
> I'm eager to get to the rest of the story oops,,, 
> 
> Anyway! I hope this wasn't,,, too awful. If you have any questions, comments, yada yada, leave them in the comments!! If you want. You don't have to.


	17. mama

The ambulance was rolling slightly from side to side as you sat in the back with library girl, gently taking her blood pressure. She looked complacent but nervous, smiling anxiously at you when you met her gaze. She directed her gaze back to the ceiling of the vehicle, nervously tapping her fingers. You chuckled, that warm and homey feel that came to you when you knew you were doing your job right and that your patient was safe and sound and generally okay settling somewhere in your chest.

"You're alright. No need to be nervous. This is all just precaution. When's your birthday?"

"May."

You hummed. "Spring child, huh?" She chuckled, and you smiled. "You married?"

She glanced away, fingers absently fumbling on her left hand. "... Soon."

"Ah, then best wishes from the paramedic that poked needles into you from the back of a speeding truck that one time." 

She laughed, clearly caught off guard by the joke. She slowly relaxed as you reached over, picking up a syringe. You shook a small bottle before sticking the needle into it. You gave her a once over as you slowly drew the liquid into the syringe.

"So," you started, gently feeling her forearm for an ideal place to stick the needle in, "how many months?"

Her cheeks dipped a slightly darker color, but she didn't seem too surprised. "J-just a few months." 

You smiled, softer this time. "I'm sure you'll be a wonderful mother." You hovered a hand over her stomach a moment, then turned back to your work. 

Blood spilled, warm and scarlet, over your hands. 

Icy cold horror latched around your heart, and library girl screamed. You stared, mortified, at the blade you had buried in her forearm. You snatched your hands away, the blood shining on them like glossy, crimson paint. You tried to jump up and leap away, your stomach filled with cement.

People were screaming, shouting, talking all around you. You glanced up, and a smoldering book fell from somewhere. The library was in chaos. A piece of paper, crumbling into ashes as it went, fluttered past your hand. It was hot. The flames were being controlled. Library girl had fallen cold and dead, eyes glossed over as her head lolled to the side. Her skin was no longer smooth and unmarred. The blade was still stuck, deep within the veins and arteries of her arm. The stench of iron filled the air, or maybe it was just you. You frantically tried to wipe the blood off your hands, but it seemed the more you wiped, the more appeared. 

A hand grabbed your arm. Someone was speaking to you. You furiously shook your head, jabbing a finger inside the building, around the ruined room, at the enormous eighteen wheeler, scraped and mangled, blazing off to one side. They were struggling to subdue the flames. You were saying something, but you couldn't understand it. Words tumbled past your lips senselessly. Head paramedic pulled you steadily away from the chaos, and you fought against him as you spotted Hanson and Thompson lifting library girl's body onto a stretcher- there was a red band around her wrist, now. 

You struggled, struggled, struggled...

 

You woke in darkness, confused and disoriented and, as you discovered upon trying to move, sore.

You weren't in the skeleton's living room, that was for sure. It took you a moment to realize you were on a mattress and that wasn't a blanket that had slipped off of you when you had sat up. Well, there was a blanket, but it wasn't the heavy but comfortable weight that had been pressing down upon as you slept. You squinted at it in the darkness, lifting it in your hands to get a better look, only to blink in surprise when you recognized Sans' jacket.

Huh. So this was Sans' room, then. You could vaguely remember being carried home by Papyrus after... Oh, right. Literally everything that could wrong, did, assumably yesterday. 

No wonder you felt so gross.

Upon giving another glance around, you found there was a shirt and the first aid kit at the end of the bed. Well, that was considerate. There was a smear of blood near your shoulder and your shirt was stained a faint teal from the water in that dark section of the underground- the name slipped your mind.

When you had made yourself presentable, with much wiping your hands on your pants, and felt significantly less gross, you found that while your side was sore and your muscles were protesting all kinds of movement, you felt... okay. You'd certainly felt worse, recently. 

It was light when you exited the room, and you could hear the chatter of Frisk and Papyrus downstairs. The steps creaked as you descended, and Sans, Papyrus and Frisk all looked up from their place in the middle of the living room floor. Frisk had a bandaid on one cheek and was wearing something that might have been a shirt on Papyrus but looked like a dress that touched the floor on them, but they grinned toothily when they saw you. Sans was wearing what seemed to be an old, stained pale gray turtleneck that still made him look oddly squishy and large. Wasn't he supposed to be a skeleton, or was there something you were missing there?

Magic, you told yourself. Don't think about it too much.

"You're awake!" Frisk clapped lightly, looking relieved and happy. Papyrus scrambled to his feet and shambled around you when you reached the floor, gently nudging you with his head in a very affectionate manner.

"Hey, bud. Good to see you're okay." You patted Papyrus' head absently, and suddenly realized it was in much the same manner as one would pat a dog.

"I THOUGHT YOU WERE GOING TO BE TAKEN DOWN BY UNDYNE FOR SURE! I AM SO GLAD THAT WAS NOT THE CASE! IF I HAD BEEN ABLE TO TELL UNDYNE THAT YOU WERE FRIEND HUMANS AND NOT EDIBLE HUMANS..." He sank into mumbling, nudging you one last time before going back to his place beside Frisk.

Sans had been eyeing you over the entire time, and you realized he looked bemused as you carefully sank to sit beside him, and he caught his jacket when your tossed it half heartedly in his direction. "so you finally decided to wake up. Frisk's been telling us of your heroic feats since they got back yesterday. had a run in with Undyne, eh?"

You sighed, rolling one shoulder with a wince. "Is that who that was? It was an experience I could've lived without."

"how're ya feelin'?"

You shrugged. "I mean, considering I ran across half the underground and back? Not too bad. Sides kinda sore, but that's just the norm for me recently." You smiled drily, and Sans snorted. "Thanks for giving me a chance to sleep, by the way. Appreciate that." 

Sans just nodded, apparently not thinking much of it. You caught Frisk staring at you, but when you met their gaze they quickly looked away. They had an odd sort of smile curling their lips, almost a smirk they weren't quite able to stifle.

"Frisk says Undyne passed out near Hotland- heat stroke, they said you mentioned- and you helped her back to Waterfall to cool her off?"

"That was a she?" Frisk giggled and Sans shot you an unamused glance. "And yeah, Frisk helped me carry her back to Waterfall. She might be out for a day or two, recovering from the after effects of all that. I warned her not to move, but apparently no one believes it when a human is trying to help them out..." You rolled your eyes, faintly exasperated.

"why would you help someone out when they were just trying to kill you?" Sans looked oddly perplexed, despite it being hard to read expression on such a solid, expressionless face. You raised an eyebrow at him.

"Well, I mean, it's not the first time I've had to help someone who's tried to down me. It was a joke among the guys that everyone should go out and get a drink the first time a newbie gets shot at or nearly stabbed. Most people quit after that, but, hey, it was an attempt to take the edge off a traumatic experience." You shrugged.

"most monsters would have just gotten out of there while they could, even if they weren't directly involved. who cares what would've happened to 'er? look after number one, kind of thing." You shot him a look of disbelief as Frisk began doodling something. 

"Seriously?" He nodded. "I mean, monsters wouldn't even help other monsters in need, even if they hadn't actually done anything wrong. Really?" Another nod. "Jeez, you guys need to get your society together."

"i can't believe you would help someone that had the full intent of killing you."

"Fair point. She even tried to get back at it after she woke up. That's when I decided to just leave it be. I'd already cooled her off, to an extent. She'll probably be fine." You snapped your fingers, remembering something. "Hey, you remember those guys you fended off the last time Frisk and I were in the woods?"

He looked marginally uncomfortable. Frisk didn't look up. "yeah."

"We ran into those guys, too. Heart-face was in pretty rough shape, so I used the last of my gauze on them. So, uh, if you see any of that in the store or whatever, I'd appreciate it if you got some for me. I feel unprepared without it."

"you helped them?"

"Yeah?"

"the monster that wounded you."

"Yyyeah?"

"you really do have a screw loose."

"Oh, can it. Tell me something new. I'd rather get myself hurt trying to help someone than go around the rest of my life knowing I could have done something but didn't." 

Sans studied you for a minute, then just shook his head slightly as if he couldn't believe what he was hearing. You rolled your eyes right back at him, easing yourself down to lie down on your stomach. When you glanced up again, you spotted Frisk studying Sans, this time. After a moment, they met your gaze and quickly ducked behind a piece of paper.

You raised an eyebrow but decided not to question it.

You propped your head in one hand, carefully brushing your fingers over your wrapped side. The bandages were slightly stained with fresh blood, but it wasn't enough to be of concern, at least. Nothing urgent. It was healing slowly, you thought with a frown. You were fairly certain you knew why, you just didn't want to admit it. Never out loud. That might be a deathwish of sorts, for all you knew.

A square of paper bounced off your forehead. 

You blinked twice, then raised an eyebrow at Frisk. They smiled sheepishly, crawling over to lay next you. You chuckled, shaking your head in feigned disbelief as you smoothed their hair.

"What's up?"

"Tell me a story." 

You winced. Well, you certainly had Papyrus' attention now. A glob of drool slid down his jaw and landed on a piece of paper. "... Tell you what. Give me a few days to come up with some adventures for, uh, Frisk the... Frisk the Mighty. In exchange, I'll tell you some job stories."

Frisk made a face. "Job stories?" They didn't sound impressed.

"Hey, you see a buncha wackos when you've got a job like I do. Did I ever tell you a little old lady on steroids tried to sucker punch me once?"

Frisk's eyes widened, and suddenly they didn't look so unimpressed. "Really?"

"Oh, yeah. One time a guy tried to hop out of the truck while it was moving, once I saw a car that got steamrolled by a cow they hit- windshield got cracked, but didn't break, everyone was okay-, another time a guy punched another guy for punching his 'ambulance driver'- he was a regular, knew me by name if you can believe it-, another time I got bite so hard it drew blood and the person had to get tested for diseases..."

"Really?!" 

"Swear on me mum."

"Tell me a job story!"

You chuckled triumphantly, absently untangling Frisk's hair with your fingers- not half so many loose hairs that you had, you tried not to notice- as you mulled over a story. You were halfway through when you realized Papyrus was staring at you with eye sockets that seemed to ooze admiration (he would later ask if you were a human version of a Royal Guard, and didn't seem to hear you when you tried to tell him you weren't) and that Sans was watching you through nearly closed sockets, looking half asleep. It didn't feel half so strange as it should have, you realized. It almost felt like home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> School sucks and I am tired, but!! I wrote!! Something!!!
> 
> ,,,
> 
> I'm sorry if this is bad. I thought we kind of deserved a winding down chapter after last chapter... Coughs nervously. Don't worry; Undyne reappears soon. ...Maybe 'don't worry' shouldn't precede that... 
> 
> //coughs nervously I tired to make it a habit of reader's (in the earliest chapters, at least) to wipe their hands off on their pants often, but it kind of fell out of use at some point... Pretend I kept up with that... coughs yet more nervously//
> 
> If you have any comments, questions, concerns, or ideas!! Leave them in the comments!! If you want. You don't have to.


	18. Author's Note

Okay so like

School is a thing

Basically what I'm trying to say is my priorities, for the time being, might not line up with me updating all of my fics in a timely manner? I have a lot to worry about rn and it's stressing me out and also I am Perpetually Tired so uh that also,, """complicates""" things,,, Eventually, things will relax a bit and I'll probably pick up a bit????? 

Basically pls be patient with me I'll update,,., eventually,,,,

Anyway I love you guys and I hope you're having a good day !!!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Probably gonna put this on my other fics too lmao,,,


	19. drunk

You and Sans were in the living room, drinking again. It wasn't an activity you did together often, not by any means, but it was an oddly companionable thing to do, sitting there in faintly disturbed silence, basking in a shared existence. Something, however, was different this time. Perhaps it was your fatigue, as you were still attempting to gain back strength sapped during the run in with Undyne. Perhaps it was Sans' imagination, as he was only really half awake at the time. Perhaps it was the alcohol, a kind Sans had not given you before, brought out due to his curiosity to see just how much you could take. 

Whichever it was, you were slammed drunk. 

You were blinking slowly up at the ceiling, Sans having moved his head to watch you after you fell silent a while ago. He kept half expecting you to fall slack, deep into slumber. He could just see the muscle twitches around your eyes as you studied a small patch of the ceiling, thought he spotted the contraction of your irises as your pupil dilated and contracted in the faint light. The bottle of alcohol lay forgotten between you. 

"I remember," you croaked out, voice raspy and words faintly blurred with fatigue, as though you had just woken, oddly calming, "this one time... I really got some guy angry. High addict. Desperate for that rush after they robbed him of his meds. Stuck peanut butter oil in his veins. Didja know, that stuff can cause a high? Yeah, sounds crazy, but it can. By clottin' up your brain, o'course. Kept saying he didn't need help. Probably wanted to do it again. Didn't like it when I declared him a threat to his own safety. Tried to..." 

One of your hands came up and grazed your neck absently as you trailed off, and Sans wondered just how many times your life had been threatened even before you fell. The thought of anyone laying hands on you sent an angry trickle of protectiveness through him. Perhaps it was the alcohol, but he didn't want you hurt. You'd been through enough as it was. You'd both been through enough. 

"Is tiring, y'know?" You rasped again, eyes falling mostly lidded, eyelashes tangling together. "You keep helpin' these people, but you know they'll be back. Keep hopin' it'll get better, make th'world a better place. But it don't."

You fell silent, and Sans followed your example, eyes drifting up to stare at the ceiling. Huh. For the first time, he really contemplated what you meant by 'regulars.' People you saw often. People hurt enough to need immediate help often enough for you to call them that. What was that like? Like watching Frisk fail and come back, again and again? Just as concern-numbing? But then, you and Sans weren't the same. Far from it. So, then... how did it make you feel?

"I remember," suddenly, sadness was pouring off you in waves, radiating from your soul so thick and heavy that Sans was caught off guard; he couldn't recall ever feeling much of anything come off your soul, as it took a feeling seeded deep inside the host to come off the soul like that, and it snapped him out of his thoughts, making him roll his head to look at you, "I remember library girl. Oh, library girl..."

You moaned, pathetic and low, as you rolled onto your side, Sans just catching your twisting expression as you did. He blinked in surprise as you heaved your body upright, vomiting into the trash can nearby, and he propped himself up as you slouched against it, face hidden as your head slumped forward, a sound that could have been a sob rattling hollowly against your ribs.

He sat up completely, reaching over and snagging his phalanges gingerly against the back of your shirt when you didn't move, giving it a tug. You didn't respond, chest rising and falling smoothly under your shirt. You had fallen asleep. 

He stared at your slouched form, faintly appalled. He wasn't sure how to respond to the situation, nor how to feel. You looked small and broken sitting there against the trashcan, sleep having swept away the despair that had been washing off your soul. He could feel it, however, lingering in the air, and something in his chest twinged. He ghosted a hand over the back of your head, the loose hairs catching softly against his phalanges, then down the back of your neck. For the first time, he realized just how warm your skin was, radiating heat beneath his fingers. 

He lifted your carefully from the floor, lowering you gingerly to the sofa, hoping you didn't wake. He felt a trickle of regret as he lifted the bottle of alcohol and put it back where it belonged with a wave of his hand. He wouldn't be doing that again. He threw a blanket over you, pausing to watch your expression shift then relax as you slept. He found himself vaguely hoping your sleep would be dreamless as he made his way up the stairs on heavy footsteps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quickie because I'm really sorry that I haven't written for this in forever!! ;; Undyne's return is proving to be difficult to write for. It might end up being rushed and short, I apologize!! :(
> 
> Also I'm sorry if this story is painfully slow. We're slowly getting somewhere, I promise. ;) I'll try to write more soon! Promise, promise!
> 
> I love you guys. Really. Please bear with my lazy ass ;;


	20. Return

You were sitting atop a building, legs dangling over the edge. The sky was dark and mottled and angry gray overhead, the weight of the oncoming storm making the air feel thick. You breathed out slowly and stumped out your cigarette. You were getting the hang of smoking.

"Kid, this ain't exactly the safest place to take a smoke break."

You didn't respond. There was nothing to be said.

"... Kid, I know it's not easy loosing your first jumper, but be at least a little bit happy. You probably made his last moments easier than they would have been otherwise."

"What reason do I have to feel glad?" You flicked the cigarette butt out onto the streets below, not bothering to look over as Boss' footsteps came closer. "I lost him. He jumped, when I should have been able to stop him. Convince him otherwise."

"Some folks are just beyond saving." He sat beside you, the grizzled gray lining his jaw catching the half light. His old, scarred hands were long beside yours. "He went knowing at least one person would miss him. That's more than some of them get."

You breathed hard, trying to force the tears back. They came anyway. "It's hard."

He sighed, drawing you into a side hug. It was an odd but not unappreciated gesture, one you didn't receive often. "I know, kid."

 

You woke in the bleak, frosty blue light of the skeleton's living room. Your limbs didn't want to move for a long time after you woke.

 

You hummed, eyes skimming over the words of a book without really taking them in. It was a slow, easy sort of day inside the skelehousehold; Papyrus and Frisk were doing something with flour and water in the kitchen, Sans was dozing on the sofa, and you were... here. Staring at books as though there wasn't anything really printed there. Several days had passed since the Undyne Incident, as you had dubbed it, but there was still no sign of the bloodthirsty monster reappearing. It felt as though the whole world was holding its breath, waiting. 

There was a faint scratching sound, coming from the door. You glanced up, tense. Sans opened a socket, then stood and shuffled over to the door. You couldn't see around him, but as soon as the door scraped open, there was a quick squabbling noise quickly followed by the frantic sound of something quadrupedal taking off through the snow. You raised an eyebrow.

Sans stared out into the milky light for a moment, scratching absently as his jaw, before he stooped and scooped something up and closed the door again. You raised an eyebrow at him silently, and he just shrugged, dropping what looked like an old, tattered ribbon on the table beside the door before trudging off up the stairs without another word. You edged closer to the table to get a closer look, but there wasn't much to see. It was simply a thin strip of pink and grayish-white material, crumpled and torn. Huh.

You meandered back to the bookshelf, thumbing through a dirty and stained book that looked like a collection of rough sketches of monsters; most of them looked like goats, with long, curving horns. They reminded you faintly of Toriel, the rather crazy monster from the ruins. In a few, however, was a figure that could have been a human. One had wings. The pages abruptly fell blank. There was a signature on the back cover, but it was impossible to read. Must have been some weird monster language.

You jumped as the door scraped open, and you turned, apprehensively expecting to see whoever had left the old ribbon. 

"Hey, Papyrus, I've been thinking, and I think we need to discuss your method of capturing humans-" 

A large, scaly, blue monster with fiery red hair ducked into the room, this time dressed in what looked like a slimmer, lightweight sort of armor. You held your breath, shuffling over the slightest so as to somewhat bar the entrance to the kitchen. Her single eye gleamed when she raised her head and met your gaze, and suddenly her posture communicated nothing short of malice. 

"YOU!" She snarled, bearing her teeth. The windows could have shook at the volume.

"Me." You raised an eyebrow at the monster. She looked haggard, as though she'd been ill recently. Even now, you thought her sneering expression looked rather flushed and queasy.

There was shuffling in the kitchen.

"U-UNDYNE!" Papyrus' voice sounded oddly feeble and sheepish. It didn't suit him. "I DIDN'T EXPECT YOU TO COME DROPPING BY AGAIN..."

"Papyrus!" Undyne's piercing yellow gaze sharply went to the skeleton, and you heard him cower against the floor. "Why haven't you killed them?!"

She stumbled back half a step, looking shocked and furious, when you chucked a book at her chest. Her scowl met yours, and you took a bold step sideways to stand between her and the kitchen. If you let her know you were afraid, you would have already lost half the battle. Don't let them know they get to you, your boss' voice rang in your head. You squared your shoulders the best you knew how, lifting your chin.

"If you want to blame someone," you sounded more confident than you were, "blame me." She looked off put by your sudden change in demeanor. A realization came to you. An amused (and perhaps rather smug) smile tugged at the edges of your lips, but you fought to keep a straight face. "Or, hey, blame yourself, considering you actually tried to kill us and hey, guess who's still here."

Her face might have turned purpler, her glare yet angrier. She opted to ignore your snide comment. "And what would you have to do with Papyrus NOT killing you and taking your souls?" Her voice was dangerously low. 

"I lied to him." You said simply, feeling a bead of sweat run cold down your neck. You tried not to jump as Frisk came up behind you and gripped the back of your jacket tightly. One of your hands drifted back and touched them reassuringly. "I told him we weren't humans. I told him that if he killed and ate us, something bad would happen. I told him our souls were no good for what you wanted them for. I lied, fooled him, over and over again, until he wasn't sure what was true and what wasn't. Can you honestly say you've never been fooled before? Honestly?" 

You held her gaze, though it was hard not to glance at the knotty purple scar creeping out from beneath her eyepatch. She sneered, taking a few threatening steps closer. You held your ground, trying not to swallow too obviously.

"I'll take your silence as a no."

She snarled angrily. "Don't test me, human! I could end your life in a second!"

"So could a number of natural disasters, perhaps even heart failure. Your point?"

Now was not the time to be getting smart. Her blazing yellow gaze was fanned with fury, and Frisk let out a whimper. Her gaze sharply shifted to them, and a malicious grin split her face. Automatically, you took a step forward, that familiar, protective feeling smoldering in your chest. She looked ever so slightly taken aback as you attempted to stare her down, causing her to pause for a millisecond. It was all you needed.

"You have six human souls. You only need one more to be free, right? Then take mine, and spare the kid. Or do monsters have no honor?"

You were breathing heavier now. Despite your words, you did not want to die. She stared hard into your eyes, shifting back a fraction of a step. Were you mistaken, or was that a glimmer of admiration in her eye?

"Alphys told me humans were determined, but only now do I see just what she meant by that." She raised her spear high over her head, and you held your breath. "With your soul... We'll all be free!"

You kept your gaze locked with her wild, electric yellow one, chest heaving as you awaited the blow that would split your head open like an egg and make your colors run, awaited the blow that would free a race of man-eaters upon your friends and family, awaited for infinity to grab you and drag you down, down, down. Waited. Waited. And waited. But nothing came. 

She was hesitating.

"Forgive me if I'm mistaken," you began slowly, voice lower now, your 'jumper' voice, "but you could kill me at any moment you wanted to. You said so yourself. And yet, you haven't. Could it be, perhaps, that you don't have it in you? That perhaps you feel the slightest bit of gratitude for the ones who spared you from meeting a, frankly, rather undesirable death at the hands of heat and claw. And, forgive me if I'm mistaken, but perhaps monsters do have honor after all, and you can't bring yourself to kill the ones who spared you."

Rage- rage, and, perhaps, disgust with herself and maybe, just maybe the slightest tinge of regret- lit up the monster's gaze and she roared as she bore down upon you, the crackle and intensity of magic filling the air as an onslaught of cerulean blue spears formed a sickeningly beautiful halo behind her. You inhaled sharply and tightly closed your eyes, forcing your feet to stay planted firmly in place as you awaited that dark eternity. 

There was a small click.

Heart deathly still in your chest, you cracked your eyes open just a fraction. Undyne looked just as surprised as you felt, the tip of the spear clutched in her hand a fraction of an inch away from your temple- it was as if she was suspended away from you on invisible puppet strings. With a frantic snarl, she thrashed against her unseen ties to no avail, and in the instant of distraction the spears dissolved. 

"sorry, pal,"

Sans' voice drawled over your head, and you and Undyne jerked your heads up at the same time. He was leaning over the railing above your head, head resting on one arm as his free hand was held flat out against the air. The red light in his socket that you thought acted as an eye was stronger now.

"but i don't take to folks bargin' in without knockin'. i'll just," with a wave of his hand, the blue fish monsters was suddenly far away from you, "show you to the door."

Undyne's furious cry was muffled as the door slid shut of its own accord, a small click telling you it was now locked. You waited a moment, expecting her to force her way back inside, but when no such thing happened, you breathed out slowly. 

You took two steps back and slid to the floor with your back against the wall. Inhaling deeply, pressed your fingers hard into your eyes, trying to still the rushing sound of your blood in your ears and the pounding of your heart against your ribs.

You flinched when Frisk wound their arms around your arm, pressing their face into your shoulder. You lifted your free hand and patted the back of their head gently, not taking your hand away from your face. You needed that darkness right now.

"You all right, bud?" Your voice sounded as though you'd just run a ten mile marathon: winded and fatigued. And... yeah, you felt that. They only squeezed your arm tighter in response. At the very least, they weren't crying. Yet. You let your hand fall from their head.

You could feel the presence of someone looming above you. The rhythm of the steps told you it was Papyrus.

"HUMAN... I... ER..." One cold, ever so slightly sharp phalange touched the back of your hand, oddly gentle. "THANK YOU. I THINK."

You hummed, not yet being able to muster up the care to ask what on earth for. The small touch lingered a moment, then disappeared. The feeling of being loomed over was gone shortly after. After another small squeeze, Frisk's arms slid from around yours and you heard them step away. Heavier footfalls, and you could feel another shadow get thrown over you. Still, you didn't bother to look up.

"y'alright?"

Not really. "Yeah."

"didn't get ya, did she?"

"Not a scratch on this old sack of flesh." Not one chuckle. Not that you were expecting any, really. "Who knew having your life threatened could take so much out of you?"

"you did."

You chuckled breathily, dragging your hand across your face and finally glancing up into the face of the heavyset skeleton. "Well, yeah, but that was the first time I got so close to actually being snuffed out. Hell of an experience."

He was scrutinizing you. It was hard to read expression on a face made of bone, but perhaps he looked distracted and the slightest bit impressed. "took real guts to do that."

You raised an eyebrow, faintly confused. "Do what? Stare into a face like hers for an extended period of time? Cause I've gotta tell ya, she ain't pretty, but I've seen far worse." 

He snorted softly, but didn't respond right away, small, almost unsettling eye lights seeing right through you. "you sure do care about that kid, huh?"

Oh. That. You shrugged. "'Course. I mean, who wouldn't?" 

You reached out, ruffling Frisk's hair. They squeaked, ducking away from the touch with a bashful smile. You chuckled breathily, though it stopped when you glanced up at Sans again. He was studying you, almost intently. You raised an eyebrow at him questioningly, but he didn't respond. Finally, he huffed and stuck out a hand for you to take. You stared at him, surprised, then hesitantly put your hand in his. With a steady pull, you were on your feet again. Your legs felt like they were made out of jelly, and you took a moment to steady yourself before letting him go.

"Thanks."

He almost looked amused. Almost... "ya really are selfless, aren't ya?"

"Am I?" You blinked blankly at him, a tad confused. He huffed again, and you ducked when a hand suddenly tousled your hair. 

Without further ado, he turned and settled himself on the sofa without so much as a glance back. Well, so much for getting an answer to that. There was an awkward pause. You shifted on your feet, then paced over and picked up the book you'd thrown at the threat.

"Hey, uh, I'm sorry if I got you in trouble with a move like that." What move you were talking about, even you weren't sure. You coughed into your elbow, turning the book over in your hands. "We can, uh, leave. If that would be better. Go find somewhere else to hide. If, er, I put you in danger with what I did. It would be hard, sure, but I think we could manage."

Really, you didn't want to go. Not only because it was warm here, and there was food here, and even a sort of protection, and you felt Frisk was probably safest here of all places in this blasted hole in the ground, but... suddenly, this place felt a lot like home. 

You could feel someone's eyes on you, burning a hole in the back of your head. You leafed through the pages of the book idly. Huh. This one was written entirely in that weird monster language. It almost looked like blueprints to something. Why were there so many hearts in all the margins? Was the author just crushing really hard while they wrote or something? The idea of monsters having crushes was just... weird.

"nah." Sans' voice broke you out of your thoughts. You glanced up. "you're safer here. i think Undyne got the message. if she didn't," one of his eye lights flickered brighter, but only for a moment, "i'll just relay it back to her."

An image popped into your head, of a broken shape huddled in the snow, surrounded by puddles of silvery pink. You shook it away.

"That's a relief." You laughed in said relief, walking over to the bookshelf and slipping the book back into its spot. From the corner of your eye, you spotted Sans' questioning look. You shrugged, thumbing the line of book spines. "Dunno what it is, but this place is growing on me."

Sans might have hummed in response. You might have caught Frisk giving you a bright-eyed look from the kitchen, but when you glanced up, they were climbing onto Papyrus' shoulders to reach something on a high shelf. For a while, all was quiet and undisturbed, as though Undyne's appearance had never occurred in the first place. Suddenly, however, something occurred to you.

"Who," your voice was suddenly tired and flat, "is Alphys?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops this is bad and short and not what I intended it to be and I hATE IT I apologize
> 
> Me oh my there is a lot of dream stuff in this fic. I could consider it like a trope of this story, I guess? Idk man I just work here.
> 
> My writing has been so awkward recently I'm sorry. :( The next few chapters might be paced weirdly, I'm sorry. I'm still trying to figure out how to do what I want with this fic.
> 
> If you have thoughts or comments or whatever, leave them below!! I love hearing from you guys! You're all so great honestly,,


	21. colder than the deepest of chills

You were warm and comfortable and at ease, grinning exasperatedly at the glowing screen as the bright light of it burned your eyes. Somewhere, faintly, a clock was ticking.

"Jesus, kid, are you just sitting in a dark room? Turn on a lamp or something."

"Somehow, I'm not surprised. Should have known you'd've found a way to make yourself blind faster than reading a book in the dark. Seriously, who does that?"

"Only you would be nuts enough to answer a call in a pitch black room with your brightness all the way up."

You scoffed. Despite their teasing, the team was grinning out at you from the painfully bright screen. You adjusted the monitor just enough, drawing the blanket tighter around your shoulders with one hand.

"C'mon, guys, be nice! If I broke my arm I'd be doing whatever I wanted, too." Newbie's voice came from somewhere offscreen, tentative and almost nervous, as though he wasn't sure he was allowed to make jokes. But you hadn't broken your arm whilst he was on the team.

"You tell 'em, Newbie." You smirked when the crew collectively rolled their eyes. "'Sides, you're the folks crazy enough to set up a video call at this hour. Scoot over, I can't see Newbie. Ah, there he is! How's it going out there?"

"Not a lot to note since, er, your accident." Newbie grinned sheepishly from the edge of the camera's feed, looking abashed. 

"For once, Newbie's right." Collective sniggering. "We thought you might need a little pick me up. This whole computer business was Weslin's idea." 

Boss' mustache twitched, letting you know he was slightly disgruntled with the idea. Weslin winked and waggled her fingers from over his shoulder. You chuckled, raising your eyebrows.

"I'm surprised you rolled with it."

More sniggering. His mustache twitched again, but he said nothing. Franklin leaned closer, as though somehow that would draw him to your attention. 

"How's it been, being a downed bird and all? God, all those hours off... Must be heaven." He sighed dreamily, eyes becoming unfocused. He yelped when Leslie elbowed him. You rolled your eyes.

"Fuckin' slacker." The group laughed, sans Franklin. "Boring as hell, more like." You groaned, rolling your shoulder with a wince. "Can't wait for this to straighten itself back out so I can get back out there. But, hey, gift baskets would be nothing but an improvement." You did an exaggerated wink, and there were collective scoffs and snickers.

"Ha ha, very funny, kid."

"Only in your dreams."

"What kind of basket would you like?"

"For fuck's sake, Newbie!"

There was more snickering and a bit of rough housing on the other end of the call. You were chanting Weslin on when you faintly heard an alarm go off and paused. The group collectively froze and turned to look around at something. After a moment, they crowded back, closer to the camera this time.

"We've gotta go-"

"Got another call-"

"Sorry to cut it short!"

"Been nice to talk to ya, kid."

"Get better quick or I'm coming over there and kicking your ass."

You laughed under your breath, waving stupidly at the screen. "Yeah, yeah, go do your jobs. You keep up my good name out there, Newbie! I won't have no kid ruinin' my reputation."

The boy laughed, looking slightly red around the face. "Yes, sir, ma'm sir!" 

He gave a brief salute before the screen flickered and went black. You breathed out slowly, smiling like an idiot in the sudden calm and quiet. Something warm and lovely had settled somewhere in your ribcage, and you basked in its glow for several seconds that felt like an eternity. You could not wait to get back to your team. 'Your family,' a small voice in the back of your head whispered. You paused to consider it. Yes, you decided with another, softer smile, they were like your family. 

With a warm and cozy sigh, you reached out with a hand to push the laptop closed,

Icy cold hands crushed down on your windpipe, and you struggled to suck in a startled gasp as you airway was restricted. Panic set in, and you clawed at the chilling, stiff hands frantically, the cold seeping out of them and filling your blood at an alarming rate. You thrashed against your assailant as hard as your adrenaline infused body would allow, letting out a choked cry that turned into a weak retch as whoever was behind you gave you a violent shake, snapping your neck forward and back so hard you could practically feel your bones snapping and the eyes slipping from your sockets. Your head was pounding in time to the suddenly magnified ticking of the clock.

"Oh, no! I've got you now, and I'm not letting you get away again!" 

The voice that rose from somewhere near your ear was colder than ice and just as sickeningly triumphant. Your eyes stung, and your body heaved as you tried to draw in breaths through a crushed windpipe. Another jostle had your vision splitting and blurring as water pooled atop your bottom eyelids.

"No more silly distractions to drag you away from me, no more games of cat and mouse, Number Nine! Are you paying attention? Your very life could hang upon my words, Number Nine, I'd listen well!"

You couldn't see, couldn't think, couldn't scream, couldn't, couldn't, couldn't-

"The one who speaks in two tongues will be your salvation, but beware the place where stone becomes liquid as it will mark where your new path is drawn! The underground will know planes before your death comes to pass, and whether you will be remembered or not forgotten depends on where your heart truly belongs!" 

Your vision was failing you. You were going to die here. Death was pouring into your skull, filling your lungs, bursting to be let out through your skin. Another shake had your brain crushing against the inside of your skull, but the grip around your throats loosened just enough. You sucked in a thin breath, and color returned to the quivering, melting world.

"Oh, you've been an interesting one to observe, Number Nine," that voice hissed in your ear, sounding grotesquely amused. "I've delved into the darkest depths of your pathetic, naive little human brain, did you know? Did you? Eh?"

Another shake. You were still struggling to draw in enough air to placate your agonized lungs, but a cold and unwelcome feeling was slowly finding its way up your spine as the unknown entity spoke close behind you. 

"Oh, yes, I know all your dirty little secrets, Number Nine." A chuckle that made the cold something slinking up your spine increase its pace. "All the blood on those fragile little human hands. All the things you failed to do." The presence leaned closer, and your hair ruffled as it spoke, almost gleefully, so close to your ear that you could feel its hollow, empty breath. "All the people you've killed."

The water welling in your eyes spilled over your cheeks as you screwed your eyes shut, willing for that stupid ticking to stop. You'd made so much noise in your one sided struggle, they should be awake, why wasn't he awake, why hadn't he come to help you? Your eyes rolled uncontrollably as your gaze searched frantically for the stairs and the rooms beyond. But this was your apartment. You lived alone.

"So much LOVE, so little LV, however could this be?" It did not sound like whoever was behind you wanted an answer. You could hear the grin in its voice, and your blood felt colder than the deepest of chills. It chuckled again, and you couldn't suppress a shudder that made it chuckle yet harder. "So pathetic and weak, Number Nine, yet it was a noble effort. If you are so brave, then, why don't you say hello to some of your old friends?"

It gave you harsh shove, and you fell forward into an endless black abyss, wind whipping past your face and lifting your hair and nearly snatching away the pleased cackle and tic-tic-ticking that rapidly dwindled away above you. You spread your arms for an impact you could not see coming, the wind forcing you to squint your watering eyes and grit your teeth as you waited, waited, wa-

With a smack and a splash that took your breath away, you had met water of the deepest black and just as thick. You struggled upward for open air, trying to suck in a breath, but the water filled you like liquid lead and you sank, sank, sank, down into the endless void of nothingness.

Suddenly, splashing and sputtering, you fell from the water onto an impossibly flat, dark gray plain. You struggled to your feet, mopping your hair out of your face and gasping for breath and blinking the water from your eyes as you tried to make sense of the sudden wall of noise after the deafening silence of the water. Your vision cleared at last, and you tried to decipher the sound coming at you from all angles-

It felt as though the wind had been knocked out of you.

People, people bleeding impossibly red ribbons all over the perfect ground, people pressing crimson hands to gaping bullet wounds in their sides, stomachs, shoulders, people with horribly mutilated faces trying to see through fire-damaged retinas, people with broken anatomy struggling to move across the floor, people crushed beneath rubble trying to claw their way out with blackened, battered hands, parents clutching their gray and all too still children to their chests, lovers clinging to pathetically limp bodies they had once loved, All wailing, screaming, crying, weeping, sobbing for-

"Help!"

"Help us!"

"Save me!"

You spun on the spot, unable to breath of your own accord, an invisible hand clutched tight around your chest, legs shaking, hands painfully posed to do nothing.

"Do something, anything!" One man screamed, clawing at the air with his one free arm as the rubble shifted and his ribcage collapsed under its weight.

"You've got to help me!" Wailed a bleeding child, face screwed up as blood ran in rivulets down their face.

"I don't want to die!" Wept a girl, curled up in a ball on the ground, clutching her stomach.

You needed to help them.

"Cut it off, cut it off, anything, I don't care!"

"My kids, please, they can't, not without me!"

"I never got to see my girlfriend!"

You whirled, struggling to open your jaw as you bit your tongue hard enough to bleed, and through a fresh wave of watering eyes you could make out hundreds of eyes staring at you, hopefully, desperately, pleadingly.

"I'm too young to die..."

"Please, hang on just a little longer..."

"I love you, please, don't let go, not yet, just think, we were going to name her Angelina...!"

You needed to, you had to, but,

"Please! There has to be something you can do!"

"We don't want to die!"

"Help us!"

"Save us!"

"I CAN'T!"

 

Cold and shaking, you found yourself gripping the wooden floor with white knuckles as you gasped for breath. Your chest heaved as though you'd just spent far too long under iced water, and sweat was running down your tense and pained arms like small serpents made of frost.

"WHATS GOING ON?"

"What happened? Did someone break in? (Y/N)?!" 

"who screamed?"

You flinched and tried to scramble away at a sudden clatter of noise from somewhere over your head, only managing to tangle your legs in a blanket and hoist yourself into a sitting position with your fingers digging painfully into the cushions on the couch. Your gaze hastily swept the room- and suddenly your pulse calmed the slightest and you could breath ever so slightly easier. Three familiar shadows loomed over a familiar railing on a familiar second floor landing, one pair of eyes flashing in the half light, another flaring harsh red against your retinas. 

"(Y/N)?! Are you okay?!" 

Frisk's voice, shrill with distress, knocked your internalized panic down another notch and you took a moment to breathe deeply and another to swallow thick bile that had risen in the back of your throat.

"HUMAN?"

"they're still alive. i can hear 'em breathing."

Asshole. You took a moment to kick your feet free, then spoke, startling yourself with how croaky your voice was, "'M alright, I'm alright. Just, uh..." 

You broke off, shifting your gaze aimlessly around the room. Just what, exactly? What had woken you? What had woken them? Had you really hit the floor that hard? Or... had you really screamed that aloud?

"Just, ah, startled myself." You rasped lamely, waving one cold hand dismissively. "Sorry to, uh, wake you. Go back to sleep." 

There was shuffling above your head, but you were too busy trying to work a particularly stubborn fold off your toes to glance up. Now that the fear of a threat was gone, your skin was prickling with heat in odd ripples. Something slick and cold had wound it's way around your vertebrae and you tried to ignore it.

"ARE YOU CERTAIN? YOU ARE NOT UNDER ATTACK AGAIN?"

You would have laughed, but it felt like your chuckle was broken. "No, Papyrus, I'm not under attack. Just spooked myself in the dark, heh." 

More shuffling. Your legs were still shaking.

"go back to bed, Papyrus. you, too, kid." A faint whine. "the human's fine. go back to sleep." 

Hesitantly, footsteps retreated and a door clicked softly shut. In an instant, you knew you weren't alone on the first floor anymore. You could feel it, feel someone's presence, and on instinct struck out with a hand. Your palm met a wall that refused to move, and you glanced up to see you had made a feeble attempt to shove Sans' ribcage. With a sigh, you dropped your hand and looked away, wiping a thin layer of sweat from your forehead.

"You startled me."

Your eyes couldn't settle on anything and eventually wound their way back to the skeleton. He was crouched on the floor beside you, and those small flickers of far too crimson light in his sockets reminded you too well of something you had seen in the darkness of your sleep. It was hard to read expression on a face made of bone, much less with only a thin outline of it cast in the (lack of) light, and your addled brain simply found it impossible to get a read on him. Your gaze bounced away. 

"y'alright?" His usual gruff voice was a pitch lower, soft and coarse in the shadows of sleep. Was that pity?

"Yeah. Just, uh... Fell and, uh, it startled me, I guess."

"hmph." He was studying you. You could feel it as though he was drawing a white hot poker across your face, carving out the details. "you're bleedin'."

"Am I?" Surprised, you glanced down at one of your hands. He was telling the truth- somewhere in your scuffle, you had managed to draw a line of black across your palm. A thin trickle of black- your blood, though it was too dark to see the color- ran smoothly down your hand and onto your wrist. "Well, that's unfortunate."

You watched the blood ease its way down your arm and pool in the crease of your elbow, warm and pleasant against your now sweat chapped skin, perplexed with yourself. What was all this about? You'd had nightmares before, of course, and yet,

He reached out to you, to take your bloody hand in his, and something flickered in the back of your mind, the primordial beast in you that didn't want to be touched by the hands of a predator. 

"Don't." 

The word was strange on your tongue, sounded odd in your ears, almost like a threat. You closed your fist around your palm, smearing the warm blood across your fingertips, and drew it closer to yourself, planting it firmly on the icy floor beside the crumpled blanket. 

He might have been caught off guard, as his hand remained in the air a moment before receding back to his side. There was a disgruntled, uncomfortable silence.

"y'alright?"

Was he annoyed? Irritated? Angry? Or was that something else warping his voice?

You shrugged. Your body was aching with fatigue, but your mind had reached that state where it would refuse to fall asleep again. You didn't want to look at him. 

"you've been crying."

Another shrug. "Probably just my eyes watering in my sleep." The excuse sounded half baked, even to you.

"hmph."

You could just make out the shadow that was your hand against the dark floor. You wished he would just take the hint and disappear like he always did. The faintest silhouette of red lit the creases in your pants, the light courtesy of Sans' eyes. You hated those eyes. You hated these stupid, tattered and torn pants. You hated this chill. You hated...

"Murderers don't deserve pity, Jaws." 

There was a sneer in your voice as you finally found your gaze meeting his for more than a handful of seconds. It was impossible to get a read on such minuscule lights, such poor substitutes for real eyes. You hated that. 

He was quiet, the small blips of crimson floating in the air fidgeting the slightest to tell you he was studying your face. 

"ain't pitying you."

"You say that."

You left the phrase unfinished. You hated that tone in your voice. So hostile, so accusing, so bitter. You looked away from him, a scowl unsettling your features in the most satisfying of ways.

"I'm getting a glass of water, then I'm going back to sleep. God knows what hour it is down in this hell hole."

You forced yourself to your feet, your muscles screaming their protest. You stepped around the shadow that was Sans and made your way into the even darker kitchen. It took you a moment to find one of the light bulbs, and it's old and dusty light stung your eyes when you yanked on its chain. 

You blinked hard, trying to focus on your hands, resting on the countertop, in the yellow light. Blood was smeared across your fingers and up your arm. Disgusting, but only because you hadn't bothered to do anything about it yet. You held it under the water, watching pink rivulets run down the walls of the sink. 

You mopped the water from your arm with a paper towel, then balled it up and clutched it tightly in your fist to stop the bleeding. The simple act of taking care of your minuscule injury was calming you, easing the tenseness in your shoulders and relaxing the muscles in your face. You stared blindly into the stained basin for an undetermined amount of time, mind wonderfully empty of activity. 

Soft footsteps, then small arms wound around you the best they could. You abandoned the paper towel to bend and scoop Frisk up under their arms, their weight drawing a small huff of effort from you. They latched their arms around your neck and planted their face in your shoulder. 

You leaned against the counter, suddenly content with the kid in your arms. You could feel their eyelashes bat against your skin, telling you they were still awake. You heard shuffling in the other room, and assumed Sans was taking his leave. You'd have to remember to apologize for your sudden snapping in the morning. You breathed in and out, wonderfully slow.

"Sorry I woke you, bud, but you should go back to sleep." There wasn't much vindication behind your voice. In a way, you didn't want them to go. 

"Mm."

"Frisk..." They gripped your shirt tighter. You sighed. "What's eating you?"

A long pause. "I want to be with you right now." 

Their voice was small and groggy. You raised an eyebrow at them, vaguely curious. Your fatigue was getting the best of you. 

"At half past dark?"

They huffed out a light laugh, but didn't elaborate. You decided that that was enough talking for one night. You sank to the floor, legs numb yet filled with an aching buzz. You couldn't be bothered to turn off the light or even leave the kitchen. Sleeping here for one night wouldn't kill you.

You settled on the linoleum, legs stretched out before you, your head resting on Frisk's shoulder just as theirs rested on yours. The air was stale and still, stagnating as though the earth itself was taking a breather. The faint buzz and hum of the ancient lightbulb over your head sounded like a lullaby, and you sank into that dark, warm embrace with little hesitance.

 

He stood just outside the ring of light, listening. Your breathing dipped and fell into a calm and slow rhythm, matching Frisk's. You had fallen asleep. His steps ghosted over the linoleum with little more than a whisper, and for a moment he paused to contemplate you and Frisk, caught in a perfect yet disturbed moment together. 

Your arms were draped around Frisk as though you'd been supporting their weight, and theirs were latched around you as though afraid they would loose you if they let go. Your skin was of a sickly hue next to theirs, the lines and stress marks on your face gouged deeper, their hair squashed to your cheek as you leaned your head against theirs. He scratched his jaw, an unfamiliar ache fluttering faintly from somewhere in his ribcage. Sympathy and it's twin drew him to stoop beside you and lift the both of you from the floor, padding carefully from the kitchen and settling you on the sofa. He threw several blankets over the top of you, not really knowing what else to do. 

His fingertips ghosted just below one of your eyes, and your eyelashes twitched ever so slightly in response. He swept your hair away from your face, glanced at your hand to make sure the scratch had stopped bleeding, then stepped away. He swept a glance over one of the windows. One or two shadows quickly drew away from the pane in response. He glowered at the snow swirling emptily outside, then settled himself in a chair nearby to wait for the gray light to return to the underground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I actually wanted to post this AFTER I posted the chapter that's probably gonna come out after this one, but I got a sudden rush of motivation to do THIS ONE SPECIFICALLY so,, sorry for the messed up chronology,,,
> 
> Anyway this is garbage and I apologize but!! A certain doctor several people wanted to see makes his debut in the dickest way possible ;3c ur welcome
> 
> Sorry for how trash I am at this but, uh, if you wanna leave a comment that would be totally cool,, if u want,,,, u don't have to,, sorry


	22. brother of Cerberus

Sans side eyed you carefully as you padded your way into the kitchen. The color had returned to your face, and after spending the remains of the previous night snoozing with Frisk, it seemed the venom and uneasiness had seeped out of you. You seemed a little distracted, but perhaps that was only because your sleep had been disturbed in the first place. He felt an odd tingle of relief. He preferred you this way opposed to that cold and hard you he'd seen the previous night, the you so like the you he'd first met. 

"All right, Frisk, eat up. What's the look for? Tired of peanut butter sandwiches?" A sniff. You scoffed, amused, as they grumpily took the sandwich out of your hands. "Hey, count yourself lucky, bud, some of us have never been graced with the beauty of eating a peanut butter sandwich. Don't give me that look. Eat your stinkin' sandwich. You're lucky peanut butter is one of the few things down here with no human byproducts in it."

Frisk huffed, as though they doubted they were lucky, but bit into the sandwich all the same. Good. They needed it, whether they liked it or not. You glanced down at your wrists, thinner they used to be, weaker than they used to be. You tried not to think about it, rinsing the knife you'd been using and wiping it cleaning absently. You wiped your palms on your pants, straightening and turning to the cupboards.

"Hey, Frisk, you feel like baking something? I've never been really great at it, but, uh, I'll give it a shot. Don't tell Papyrus, but I'm getting kinda tired of spaghetti."

Frisk brightened and nodded eagerly. "What do you want to make?"

You scrounged around in the cupboards a moment, huffing exasperatedly. "How about just... bread? Sounds lame, yeah, but we don't exactly got a lot to work with here." You sighed, a prickling feeling of bitterness seeding in your gut. You crushed it down as you hoisted the bag of flour onto the counter. "First things first, go set the oven for 350 or thereabouts."

With a grin and a nod, Frisk dashed to the other side of the kitchen. You rolled up your sleeves, stooping and pulling a bowl out from the dark cupboard they were stashed in.

 

With a sigh, you leaned your back against the counter, dusting flour off your hands. The bowl was at your elbow, covered in foil and containing the ball of dough that needed to rise. You and Frisk had gotten done kneading it in turns, and now all that was left to do was wait. That was okay. The quiet hum of the oven was a nice thing to think to. Frisk had quickly gotten bored with waiting, and you'd heard them climb the stairs and enter Papyrus' room, probably looking for something to do while the taller skeleton was out and Sans was snoozing or whatever the fuck he does during the day.

'Just how big is the underground, really? Clearly big enough to host several climates, but small enough that it only takes a few hours to run across them. Right? Wasn't it a few hours? It had to have been. Right?' You frowned, scratching your neck thoughtfully. Your memory kept failing you these days, though mostly with recent events. Frisk had caught you reading the same book for the fourth time the other day, and you had tried to brush it off by saying it was a really good book when really you couldn't remember fuck all about it.

"baking, huh?"

You blinked with a start, noticing for the first time that Sans had entered the kitchen. When had he done that? 

"Yeah." You flicked the side of the bowl, making it ring softly. "Not gonna be a very interesting loaf of bread, but, hey, the best we could do considering next to nothing doesn't have human in it around here. Seriously, who puts human parts in canned fruit?" You rolled your eyes as though it was a joke. It wasn't, not really.

Sans side eyed you for a handful of seconds. You raised an eyebrow at him. After a moment, he let his gaze roam away, studying the mess of flour scattered across the countertop where you and Frisk had been kneading. "if you're that desperate for something different, why not just use it anyway?"

Your stomach rolled over, but you made a face as though you were confused. "What?"

"just eat it. little human never killed anybody." 

You couldn't help the grimace that twisted your features, shaking your head before he even finished. "No." He raised an eyebrow at you. You sighed, gaze drifting away. "I know people have committed acts of cannibalism in the name of survival before, but I'd rather die than eat someone else's skin or something. I mean, it just feels like I'd be carrying on that cost of their life, with every mouthful be nourishing myself with someone else's crushed hopes and dreams and ambitions. Makes my skin crawl just thinking about it."

You shook your head, trying to shake off the feeling. When you glanced up, he was still staring at you as though perplexed with your reasoning. Exasperated, you huffed.

"Look, imagine if someone dusted Papyrus and then told you to take a big ol' bite?" As you spoke, you plunged a hand into the still open bag of flour and took a handful, shoving it under his enormous jaw. He jerked back, seemingly caught off guard, and though it was hard to read expression on a face made of bone, you thought he looked disgusted. Satisfaction crept up on you, and you retracted your hand, dropping the flour back into the bag. "Yeah. 'S what I thought."

He didn't reply, but studied the flour on the countertop again before turning and shuffling his way out of the kitchen. You took a deep breath, then turned and lifted a corner of the foil, peering into the bowl. With a satisfied hum, you cupped a hand to you mouth and called for Frisk. 

"Dough's ready to be baked!"

You heard them scamper down the stairs, appearing in the doorway a moment later. You lifted the soft and squishy mass out of the bowl and picked up a large knife. 

"Alright, now what we do is split into even parts and put those each in a bread pan. You know where something like that is?"

 

You dusted off your hands, then strolled out of the kitchen. "Check them every once in a while until they're golden brown on top. I'm gonna take a short walk around the block and come back with some pine needles for tea, I guess."

You were pulling on your jacket when Frisk suddenly grasped your pant leg in a tight grip.

"I'll go with you." 

You glanced at them in surprise. Their face was set but anxious. "Someone's gotta stay here and keep an eye on the bread."

"I'll ask Sans."

You snorted. "You really think he would be diligent enough to keep it from burning?"

Frisk frowned. "Then we'll be really quick."

You pried their hands off your coat tails, raising an eyebrow at their worried expression. "Bud, I'll only be gone for a few minutes." Still, they frowned at you. You knelt and put a hand on their shoulder. "Bud, what's eating you? You didn't use to be so clingy."

They hastily avoided your gaze, suddenly looking less anxious and more ashamed. You waited a bit, then squeezed their shoulder softly, attempting to be reassuring.

"Listen, I'll be quick. You won't even notice I've been gone." 

You went to stand, but their grip on your hand made you pause.

"You could've died." 

Their voice was small, as though they were afraid you would be overheard. You blinked at them in dumb surprise. They looked close to tears.

"You almost died. I-I don't want that to happen. I don't want you to..." They choked and sniffed, furiously wiping their eyes with their sleeves. You breathed out softly, kneeling again and pulling one of their hands down to thumb one of the tear tracks away yourself.

"Aw, bud..." You frowned gently at them when they peeked out at you from behind their free hand, their other still holding yours. "I know it's scary, but I'm okay, and you're okay, and neither of us is going anywhere." 

That just made their tears come faster. "Y-you- for me- and if she had- it would've been my fault! You can't do that again! I d-don't want..." 

"C'mere." You pulled them into a hug, rubbing their back softly. "Sometimes things are scary and people you care about almost get hurt, but the important thing is that we're both okay." 

They pulled away, suddenly beating your chest with their small fists, face twisted with frustration and red with tears. "I don't wanna be okay if you're not okay! You big, stupid jerk! I don't want you t-to die for me! I want you to be here with me! You big, mean..." 

They sniffed loudly and buried their head in your chest, crying into your jacket. Your heart twinged with regret, and you gripped them tightly.

"Aw, kid... I know. It's hard, when people get hurt for you, I know. All it means is that I care about you being safe beyond anything the world can throw at me. I know it's hard, and you think I was just being reckless and stupid and inconsiderate, I know, 'cause I've been there, but I'm still here, and you're still safe, and that was my goal all along. Okay?" 

You pulled away and held their wrists gently, meeting their gaze unflinchingly. They sniffed and looked away, looking pitiful, but didn't seem to have anything to retaliate with. 

"And, listen," they met your gaze again, "if something happens to me, and that's a pretty big if, but IF something happens to me, and I'm not around anymore or otherwise incapable, I want you to get out of here and go find somewhere to be happy for the both of us. Okay? Can you promise me that?"

They grimaced, crying anew, and didn't answer right away. You gripped their wrists just a little harder, just enough to get their attention, and repeated the question the more firmly. "Can you promise me that?" 

They sniffed again, then nodded hesitantly. You smiled at them reassuringly, smoothing their hair out of their face. 

"You're a strong kid, Frisk. You'll get through this, with or without me, and I'll be proud of you every step of the way." 

They wiped their tears away, still looking upset, but no longer crying fresh tears. They clutched their rumpled sleeves in their sleeves for a moment, then stared defiantly back at you. "Can't you be happy here? With me and Papyrus? With Sans?"

The questions caught you off guard. Was there a certain lilt in their voice on that last question? You chalked it up to their recent bout of tears. You chuckled breathily, ruffling their hair. "I already am, many times a day."

With a huff, you forced yourself to your feet despite your aching joints. You gave their head a gentle pat, then plucked up your silver antlers from the nearby table. 

"Now, I'm going out. I'll be back in a few. Keep an eye on that bread, okay, bud?"

They smiled weakly, nodding and taking a few steps away. You gave them a half salute, pulled your collar up around your face, catching a glimpse of Sans on the stairs as you did, and slipped out the door. The air outside was wonderfully cold and brought you sharply to your senses. 

With calm and easy strides, you slipped around the side of the house and into the wood, out of sight of prying eyes. Your footsteps echoed many times over in the calm, muffled air. The fresh snow was unmarred, save for a few scuffles here and there, probably from where icicles or the like fell and disturbed it. You ducked in and out of the branches, occasionally tilting your head to scrape your wire antlers along the branches on purpose. 

You walked for a while, then stopped in a clearing of sorts and listened to the sighs and soft groans of the forest around you. This place was beautiful, if a threat to your very life. You breathed deeply, feeling your lungs tingle with the cold of it, then breathed out slowly, your breath dissipating in a thin white fog. 

Eventually, with a puff, you turned and stamped your way up to one of the trees. You reached up and tugged on a bunch of pine needles, tugging harder when they didn't let up. The branch creaked, and you paused. Your startled yelp was quickly crushed out of you with a muffled crack and crash, a heavy weight slamming down upon your shoulders and forcing you to the snow with a jarring thump. 

You had to blink for several moments, dazed, before you could suck air into your winded lungs and figure out what had happened. The weight of the tree branch, laden with frost and snow, was enough to keep your grounded despite your best efforts to push or roll it away or scramble out from beneath it, and after several minutes of attempts you gave up and flopped back into the snow. The chill was chewing its way through your clothes, and you tried to focus on what to do before panic could sneak its way into your head. Suddenly, you were reminded of how you met Papyrus, and you couldn't quite suppress a snort.

A twig snapped and snow crunched beneath someone's foot. You glanced up, heart pounding wildly in your ribcage.

From between two trees slunk a shadow of the deepest black, which quickly split and formed two shadows, one limping slightly, the other moving slowly to keep pace with its twin. Green and pink flashed brightly against the bleak background as the figures crept ever closer, and you felt certain that if they had eyes, they would trained intently upon your squashed form.

Their long, black fingers spread wide over the snow as they crept ever closer, and their jaws opened the slightest, revealing all those long, dagger like teeth and pink and green gums. And then, quietly, as though they were hissing, whispering, muttering out the words,

"The human... the human... alone... the human..."

 

Sans had been waiting around the back of the house for your return, not sure what he would say but wanting to see you after that scene with Frisk, when he thought he heard the slightest of disturbances echo out from between the trees. He paused in absently pulling at a loose thread in one of his pockets, listening carefully. 

It was quiet. Too quiet?

He opened his senses to the magic resonating in the area. He could feel Frisk's soul, hot and blazingly powerful as a bonfire, quite nearby and knew they were still in the house, and, farther out, beyond the weaker beats of monster souls, the soft yet unwavering warmth of your soul, bright and radiant as a candle lit in a dark room. With little hesitance, he turned his steps in that direction.

Your footsteps were easy to follow in the fresh snow, and Sans was vaguely suspicious of the scuff marks that trailed alongside them. Still, the marks seemed random, and were relatively shallow, so perhaps some monster had passed by in the night and you just so happened to follow the same path.

He came upon a break in the trees and suddenly felt anger hot on his bones and in the next instant was wielding a weapon. There was a downed branch on one side of the clearing, and, beside it, you, on your knees in the snow with two monsters looming over you. Protectiveness rearing its roaring head somewhere in his ribcage, Sans took several heavy strides into the clearing.

The monsters started in surprise at the noise, jaws opening and teeth glinting. Sans raised his weapon in his hands, fully ready to bring it down upon their heads, and your eyes flashed as your head turned. The next instant you were on your feet, a wall between him and his prey, one hand held out as though to stop him.

"Sans, don't! They're okay."

He faltered, appalled at your reaction. He had expected you to be bleeding, perhaps relieved at the sight of him coming to your aid or otherwise out cold from some attack, but, while there were scrapes on your hands and cheeks, you were otherwise whole and standing defiantly between him and your attackers. 

When you noticed he had yet to come closer, your posture relaxed slightly and you eased your hand down and slightly behind you. 

"They're okay. They helped me get out from under that mess. They're not gonna hurt me. Put that away, you're scaring them."

Sans blinked, gaze shifting from your face to the monsters. The pink and green faced creatures were huddled behind your legs, one snarling softly and the other clicking its teeth fearfully. You were holding one hand just over the pink one's head as though trying to shield it, and one of their hands came up and gripped your leg as though looking for reassurance. Slowly, he lowered the weapon, and, slowly, the snarling stopped. The pink one, however, kept clicking its teeth, though more softly.

You breathed out a sigh, turning and addressing the monsters rather gently. "It's okay, guys, he's not going to hurt you again. Right, Jaws?" You sent him an almost threatening look, and he blinked. Again?

Suddenly, he recalled the dual-bodied monster that had set upon you and Frisk, recalled how he had beaten one until they retreated, recalled the thin black shard lying in the sink surrounded by small flecks of blood. And you wanted him NOT to hurt them?

Yet he recalled how you said you had helped said monster in Waterfall, giving them the last of your gauze.

The weapon dissolved, and he shoved his hands in his pockets, nodding stiffly. You ghosted your fingertips along the top of the pink ones head, and it stopped chattering and leaned ever so slightly into the touch.

"Thanks, you guys, for helping me out of that sticky situation. You guys be safe out there, alright? I've got to go, okay?" 

You gave the pink one another gentle touch, then turned and yanked a handful of pine needles off the fallen tree branch. With a few strides, you were at Sans' shoulder. You were holding one arm stiffly as though it was sore, but otherwise seemed okay. You met his gaze without flinching.

"Well? We going or what?"

He stared at you a moment, then puffed and turned away from the clearing. You waved at the monsters one last time, then hesitated before following Sans through the trees. For a while, neither of you said anything. Finally, you spoke,

"Y'know, I'd ask how you always seem to know when I'm in a bad situation, sans Undyne, but a part of me feels like I don't want to know."

He couldn't help but snort softly. And just like that, the topic was left alone and the tension eased.

 

You stood from the table, plate balanced precariously on your fingertips. Papyrus tilted his head as you drifted away from the small gathering, apparently confused.

"HUMAN? DID YOU NOT LIKE YOUR 'BREAD'?"

"Oh, no, I liked it just fine, Papyrus." You said breathily, drifting past Sans and into the kitchen. He side eyed you skeptically. "I'm just, uh, not as hungry as I thought. I'll wrap this up and put it away and meet you in the living room." 

Papyrus seemed to think nothing of this response, and Frisk was too busy with their own bread to notice anything off. Despite your... argument? Discussion? earlier, they seemed to be in a relatively good mood. Sans watched you disappear into the kitchen, waited a moment, then stood and trailed after you.

You eased the backdoor open, then slid out into the descending darkness outside. Sans crept closer, listening and peering through the small window, curiosity getting the better of him. 

You stood very still on the small back porch a moment, then stepped up to the edge of the snow and stared back and forth into the darkness for a while, a sizable chunk of bread in your hands. After a minute, you clicked your tongue invitingly. 

"You guys out there? C'mon out, Orthrus, I ain't gonna hurt ya. I've got something for you." 

Two shadows connected by a thin cord detached themselves from beneath a bush, and your posture loosened a bit. You stepped halfway out into the snow- Sans realized you'd gone out without shoes or jacket, and felt the sudden need to scold you for such stupidity- then took the bread in on hand and tossed it carefully towards the monsters. One of them caught it in its long, outstretched hands, and brought it to its face, seemingly trying to decide what it was. After a moment, it tore it in two and offered the other half to its twin. With that, they disappeared back into the darkness. You stood still a moment longer, then turned back to the door.

By the time you had stepped back inside, Sans was on the sofa, as though he'd been there the whole time. You dusted off your hands and settled beside Frisk and Papyrus on the floor, legs crossed beneath you.

"So. Board games, puzzles, drawings, or what?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ,,,, I don't have much to add other than sorry my writing is junk lol


	23. For you

Over the following days, weeks, months, it became clear to Sans that you had sufficiently tamed the dual-bodied monster (Orthrus, as you called them as an entity, Soft and Sharp individually), or, at the least, managed to make peace with the creatures. They hung around and tailed you wherever you went, peered in through windows when they thought Sans wasn't looking, left things on the back step for you to discover; the things they left varied from various scraps of cloth, gotten from who knows where, to bundles of pine needles to small, shiny stones. 

At first, Sans shadowed you whenever you went outside, determined to catch the monsters making some aggressive move towards you. When nothing happened (and when you got exasperated enough to tell him that you were not stupid and that you had a good idea how to defend yourself if something should arise, making him feel oddly flustered), he settled for checking every once in a while whenever you left the house. Frisk and Papyrus were either unaware of the monsters or simply found nothing strange about it, the latter idea making Sans feel foolish. 

You gave the monsters handfuls of food and tended to the wounds Sans had given one of them. It took some effort on your part to tempt them close enough to touch the dirty bandage the first time, and even more to convince them you meant no harm. While Soft was more trusting of you, Sharp seemed unable to keep himself from growling whenever you drew close enough to lay a hand on them. At first, Sans saw this as a reason to draw a weapon and threaten the more aggressive side of the monster, but upon getting told off (and hit upside the head with whatever tree branch might be nearby) numerous times, he grit his teeth and satiated his need to beat the thing to a pulp by glaring at it instead.

You /liked/ these monsters, and Sans just couldn't fathom it. These monsters- who were hungry for human flesh, who were willing to kill those that weren't even a threat, who were not above attempting to take a bite out of a child- had attempted to down you and take your living body to further their own, and yet you were willing to give up half of your dinner on cold nights simply so they didn't have to face the frost hungry. You smiled, softly, when they came creeping out of the woods to see what you had to give them. You spent over an hour coaxing them into letting you put disinfectant on their slowly healing wound. Sans just couldn't understand. 

Today, you were 'playing' with them. 

You were sitting on the back steps of the house, bundled in your jacket and a pair of socks Frisk had found that were too big for them but too small for the skeletons; a bunch of pine needles lay beside you. Sans was standing behind you, leaning against the wall beside the back door, watching. From somewhere nearby, there were galloping footsteps. You grinned, eyes bright and almost eager.

From the trees came Orthrus, both heads fighting for a grip on a deeply gouged and chewed upon stick. It was awkward for them to run side by side as they were, their hands knocking into each other's as they went, but there was something distinctly playful about the way they shoved one another, about how they relentlessly tugged at the long bough, trying to wrench it out of the others grasp. You were laughing, not the dry chuckle Sans heard so often, but a light and hearty one that he found he liked the sound of.

They skidded to a stop some feet from the house, and Sharp managed to get the stick. He crept forward half a step, then tossed the stick with a jerk of his head. It skidded to a stop at your feet and you bent ever so slightly, grasping it and cranking your arm back once again. With a fling, the stick soared between the trunks of the wood and disappeared. The monsters spun around and raced each other back into the darkness. 

You sighed, not tiredly, but contently. You were smiling as though satisfied. For a moment, you sat in silence, the thin vapor in front of your face disappearing as quickly as it appeared as you breathed. 

"It's funny, isn't it?" Your voice broke Sans out of his thoughts and he shifted on his feet, peering at you more intently. "It seems all you guys really need is a little TLC. Like you've forgotten that love and comfort are one of the essentials to actually living. Without it, you exist, but not a lot more. From humans to monsters, not a lot... changes, really. Isn't that weird?"

At first Sans thought it was a hypothetical question, then you turned and met his gaze, eyes studying his with a sort of expectancy he wasn't sure what to make of. For a moment he was so distracted by your gaze suddenly locking with his that he didn't respond. He shrugged, gaze moving to the woods as the familiar sound of jostling footsteps came echoing out.

"what makes it weird?"

You hummed, bending and picking up the stick. "I don't know. The way we handle it, I guess. You guys just kinda seem like humans that forgot how to love in pursuit of other things." You threw the stick. After watching Orthrus disappear into the woods again, you pushed yourself to your feet. Many of your joints snapped loudly, and you rubbed your knees before straightening. "Hopefully it can be drawn back to you before someone figures out how to get us out of here."

Sans raised his eyebrows at you, but you didn't elaborate. You touched his shoulder as you passed, pushing the door open. 

"Come on. If I spend any longer out here I might just get frost bite."

Sans huffed at your exasperated tone and followed you into the house, closing the door behind him. Frisk was peering around the doorframe of the kitchen, eyes gleaming. When Sans arched an eyebrow at them, they quickly ducked out of sight. 

Huh.

 

"Truth or dare!"

"I'll go with truth. Last time I chose dare I ended up with this, so." You grinned crookedly, gesturing vaguely at your face, where Frisk had taken a marker to your eyebrows and made a small mark just below your eye, shaped like a soul to Sans' eyes.

Papyrus clearly didn't understand the game, but was happy to play along, even when the tips of his clawed phalanges got markered a rainbow of colors. Sans was simply observing, passing every time. Frisk had gotten increasingly frustrated, and eventually had given up on getting him to do anything, huffing and puffing out their cheeks whenever he caught their gaze. As though he had somehow foiled their plan.

You had played right along with the game as you usually did with Frisk's shenanigans, kneeling on the floor between Sans and Papyrus so you made a lopsided diamond. Your knees had made sharp snapping noises as you did. You had winced. Now, you were sitting cross legged, leaning back against one hand a little bit, a glass of water beside your knee. You were wearing an old pair of thick, heavy socks, one Sans might have worn, years ago. They were big on you.

Your hand ghosted over the rim of your glass, then you picked it up and tipped it back as Frisk tapped their chin as though in thought. Sans was almost dozing, warm and heavy under his jacket.

Suddenly, Frisk brightened, as though having an unexpected idea. "Have you ever had a date-friend?"

You inhaled so sharply you choked, a trickle water dribbling down your shirt. You bent double and hacked, and Sans reached out, patting your back as you attempted to catch your breath. When you straightened, color was creeping up your neck so quickly Sans wondered if he should be alarmed.

"Woah-ho-ho, uh, pulling a curve ball on me already, huh?" There was something startled about your gaze, your quirked grin, but you hid it so thoroughly under layers of calm and cool resolve that Sans couldn't search your eyes to find its source. Was it really such an odd question?

... What was the question, again?

"Well? Have you?" Frisk demanded, folding their arms in front of their chest, leaning forward ever so slightly. 

You coughed, lowering your now half empty glass to the carpet and dodging everyone's gazes. Color had found its way all the way up your neck. "Well. That depends on what you mean. Define 'datefriend.'" Were you biding for time?

Frisk frowned, clearly a little peeved. "Someone you hugged and kissed and stayed up at night with and shared secrets with and loved all the time!" 

The flush was finding its way onto your cheeks. You flapped a hand, eyes rolling nonchalantly to the ceiling. Sans watched a bead of sweat creep along your temple, raising an eyebrow at your fractured composure. He waited for your answer, awake. "That's still kinda vague. That applies to a handful of my high school friends, but I'm not sure I'd consider those relationships..." 

Frisk huffed, growling lowly in frustration. You met their gaze for a fraction of a moment, and the facade fell. The color filled your face rapidly, touching your ears. You sighed, closing your eyes as though you didn't want to look at any of them.

"Alright. No. I haven't. Can we carry on yet?" 

There was something bothered and distant and sad about your expression as you said it, the same look you got when reminiscing about the surface to Sans when alcohol was still hot in your throat. Your eyes were slightly misted as Frisk glanced at Sans then continued with the game, and your voice faint as you excused yourself to 'get more water.' Sans heard the back door in the kitchen scrape quietly open, heard you step outside and close it behind you. He followed you. 

You were standing on the back porch, fumbling with a cigarette. Your hands were shaking and you were having trouble with the lighter. You glanced up to look at Sans, acknowledging his presence, but kept your attention on what you were doing. Sans held out his hand, and you sighed around the cigarette, reaching out and dropping the lighter into his hand. With a click, a small, winking flame appeared in his hand, and he held it to the end of your cigarette, careful to avoid singing you. After a moment, you pulled away and a trickle of thin, gray smoke left your mouth. In the instant before Sans allowed the flame to flicker out, it illuminated a silhouette at the edge of the woods, watching you. 

You offered a cigarette to Sans, drawing yours away from your mouth for a moment. Plumes of smoke drifted up and away from your lips when you spoke. "It must sound sad, pathetic. I was never much of one for romance, or so I've told myself. People always took pity on me. Thought something was wrong with me. I just... never really found anyone I considered romantic material." Your eyes clouded briefly here, and you frowned slightly, but you blinked it away. "Doesn't matter now, anyway. Being stuck down here isn't helping my case any. I must seem weird... But then, maybe you guys don't put so much emphasis on finding 'the one.'"

You glanced at Sans, the smoke a halo around your face. He dodged your gaze, shrugging. It was cold out that night. It was always cold out.

 

Once, a monster attempted to steal into the skeleton's house to get to the human meat alive inside.

It was morning when it happened; not yet time for you or Sans to wake, but it was gray in the room when Sans was abruptly woken from his slumber. He lay for a moment, attempting to figure what had woken him in the still, empty dawn. Then, he heard it- faintly, outside the walls of the house, thumping and snarling and the crunch of snow being trampled, and he realized the air was charged with the dense feeling of recently cast magic. He was up in an instant, grabbing his coat as he went.

You were already outside, silhouetted pale and frosty in the milky light. You were wielding something, perhaps as a weapon- the handle of a broom, clutched like a staff. You had only just gotten out there, from the looks of it. Surveying the damage. You hadn't even grabbed a jacket.

It was a snowdrake that had apparently scented you out. The thing was large, not quite as tall as you, but heavy and bulky, with a whole lot of teeth and thick, brutish claws. It's eyes were snapping in the half light, its teeth flashing and jaws slavering at the prospect of a meal so close. But it was being met with resistance.

Sharp and Soft were spitting and hissing and fighting with all their worth, jaws snapping and claws flying and thin black shards littering the churned snow around their feet. Their skin was tinged pink or green in a few places, some of the snow surrounding them spattered with color. 

The snowdrake was angry and blood was trickling from one of its wings; it attempted to charge at Sharp, wings raised as though to intimidate, but Sharp reared up halfway and hissed, meeting them with a flurry of slashes around its eyes. The snowdrake shrieked its pain, quickly ducking back and redoubling its efforts on Soft. Soft turned and swung, deflecting the drake with their shoulder and snapping at their feet. It was all happening very quickly; Sans stood still for an instant, watching the Orthrus give their all into attempting to protect you.

The drake was being driven slowly back, and it growled its frustration, tossing its head and sending blood flying. It was then that you stepped forward, knuckles white around the pole in your hands. The drake sharply lifted its head and grinned, shoving aside Soft with renewed vigor and stepping eagerly towards you, jaws drooling thick and heavy onto the snow. It was two steps away now, one step, and Sans started forward, a brief fear fluttering in his chest. 

You swung the staff smartly, catching the beast upside the head with a sharp crack that sent it staggering. The beast was obviously caught off guard, dazed and reeling. Sans, too, was surprised; you were stronger than you looked. The drake shook its head, hard, and tried again, this time furious that its prey was attempting to fight back. You held the staff level with your chest, caught the beast between the teeth and jerked upwards, again sending it reeling back. This time, Soft and Sharp met it with an onslaught of claws and teeth. Sans swept a hand, and shards of bone whistled past its head and drove it back several steps. With one last low, discouraged groan, the thing took off into the woods. Sharp and Soft snarled after it, clicking low in their throats as though warning it not to come back. 

The silence afterwards was deafening. 

You were breathing heavily, and you jabbed the staff into the ground and leaned against it, shivering. Sans stepped closer, but before you faced him, you knelt, and extended a hand to Sharp. Sharp eyed you suspiciously, bit edged closer and slowly extended a hand to you. Sans realized there was a long, clean slit driven through his palm, oozing green into the snow. You took his hand, and Sans noted that, despite the roughly humanoid appearance of the Orthrus, their hands were very long and slim in yours, fingers tapering to practiced claws and palms weathered and rough. You pulled something from you pocket- a long, tattered ribbon- and tied it around the wound, snug but careful. Sharp pulled his hand away, sniffed it, then limped a few steps away.

You breathed deeply, standing. You rubbed your wrists, the shadows cast around your eyes making your face look gaunt, cheekbones sunken. "Lucky that I've dealt with angry dogs before. Lucky that that thing acted kind of like one."

Your tone was musing, distant, as though you were talking more to yourself than to him. You turned and met his gaze, one hand reaching slightly behind you and jerking the pole out of the snow. Your arms were shaking, and your teeth chattered from time to time.

"So," your tone was light, almost casual, as though this was normal, "they woke you, too, huh?"

Sans stepped closer to you and draped his coat around your shoulders. You touched the gray, stained fur of it lightly with your fingertips, eyes searching his, but didn't reject it. You stepped out of the snow and onto the porch, turning and watching Orthrus as they cleaned their wounds in the strengthening light. You would need more gauze. 

Sans studied you, checking you over. You were unhurt. That was what mattered. Perhaps, later, he would go out and make sure the snowdrake didn't spread the word or attempt to come back. 

"You know," your voice startled him out of his wandering thoughts; you were still staring out at the uneven snow and colorful smears that littered its surface, "I'd almost forgotten I was considered food down here." 

You turned and gave Sans the full attention of your stare, eyes infinitely drawing him in. "You're... strange. I don't think I'll ever understand why you didn't kill me when you had the chance." Briefly, your eyes clouded, the acknowledgment of the reality that hung between you palpable and dense, but you blinked the look away. Still, your gaze bore into his, and Sans couldn't bring himself to look away. 

Why hadn't he? Had he hoped someone else would kill you along the way? Or was he intrigued by the circumstances? Was he morbidly curious to see what Frisk would do once they got attached to someone they would inevitably lose? ...Did he want to see you fail? 

He tried to shake the thought away.

"I'm glad you didn't, anyway." He blinked and refocused on you. You had turned your head away to trace the branches of a pine. "You're... interesting. It's made being stuck down here better. Not so bad, maybe. Heck if I know." You shrugged. Sans' gaze followed a crease beneath one of your eyes. "You're one of the only one people down here I can trust. I need that." You turned your head back and caught him in your gaze again. There was something soft and morose there. Something rock hard and intense. 

"I'm going to die down here." You said it so bluntly. So matter of factly. Sans was caught off guard, alarmed. He searched your gaze. You went on, almost nonchalant. "I've known for a while now. Whether I die at someone's hand or not, I'm not going to get out of here in flesh and blood. This place is chipping away at me, slowly wearing me down. Sooner or later, it's going to happen. I know that, and I'm coming to terms with it."

Sans blinked at you, really looking at you for the first time in ages. You were thinner than when you first appeared, your hair not so shiny, your skin stretched tighter and thinner over your features, the shadows under your eyes darker, the lines on your face deeper. You looked worn. Tired. He was struck with a sudden urge to take you inside and force you to rest, to wrap you in a blanket and make sure you were safe.

"That's why I need you to promise me something." Your brow creased. You frowned. "I want you to look after Frisk once I'm gone. They'll find a way out of here; I can feel it. They just need to live long enough to get the chance. Promise me you'll make sure that'll happen."

Sans couldn't form the words. Something was stuck in his nonexistent throat. For some reason, it almost hurt, ached, to think of what things would be like after you died. He didn't even like promises.

"They're the whole reason I've kept fighting for a while now." You sighed, breath misting in the air, the strengthening light casting a halo around you. You looked away, watching a snowflake drift slowly to the ground. "If it wasn't for them, I'll be honest, I probably would have blown my brains out by now. Maybe thrown myself into the claws of some monster I hoped would kill me quickly. Before them, it was the hope of getting out. I know that won't happen, now, but I have to keep fighting forward for them. They are that hope now. All I've got left, unless something else falls into my lap." You met his gaze, strong again. Sad, but strong. "Can you promise that for me?"

He didn't even like promises.

"i promise."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Boy, this fic sure is slow, huh?" I say, to an empty theater,
> 
> Sorry for such slow updates. Really. I know it's been so long, and some of you were probably wondering if I was ever going to update... I'm sorry. Sorry if this sucks, too. I forced myself to write it bc I wanted to do,, something. Sorry. Again. 
> 
> Anyway, uh... thank you, if you're still reading this after all this time. You have no idea how much I love you guys. Leave a comment, if you want. I'll try to answer questions. Hope you have a good day.


	24. what is this?

"All right, jaws, c'mere." 

You gestured for Sans to sit beside you on the low steps of the back porch, eyes on his and spare hand resting atop Soft's head, resting in your lap. Sans eyed the monster uncertainly, noting the aggressive sibling lurking a few inches from your left leg, and raised an eyebrow at you. You gestured again, turning your attention back to the monster kneeling in front of you. With a hint of hesitation, Sans edged over and sat just close enough for his shoulder to touch yours. You slid him a look that was soft and smiled slightly, looking almost proud, almost grateful. 

You breathed out slowly, stroking Soft's smooth, jet black head carefully. The monster rumbled out a purr, not seeming troubled by Sans being so close. Sharp had sat up, but was still keeping a distance. You closed your eyes for a moment, breathing in.

"Alright." You reached over and took Sans' hand from where it had been resting on the rough, splintered wood, surprising him. Your fingers were slim and soft around his, your palm weathered but almost velvety against his chalky metacarpals. He found he liked the touch of your hand against his. 

You guided his hand to Soft's head, replacing yours with his. His long, hooked phalanges sprawled across the entire surface of the inky monster's crown, and they might have tensed, nearly making him pull away. He wasn't entirely sure he had ever touched another monster without the intent to hurt (aside from Papyrus, of course), and it was making him uneasy, being so close to unintentionally wounding something so... trusting?

"Shhhhhh..." You breathed, leading his hand to smoothing across the monster's crown. Soft relaxed under the touch, cheek pressing into your stomach. After another two gentle strokes of his palm, Sharp, who had stood, eased back into a sitting position. 

Sometime after that, your hand left Sans', though he wasn't sure when; he simply suddenly realized he had been petting the monster on his own for some time now. When he glanced up from where he had apparently been intently staring at Soft, you were leaning back on your palms, watching him. Smiling.

"See?" You breathed, voice as slight as the vapor coming from your mouth. "We're all getting there."

 

You were pushing your stew around your bowl without much conviction, the lumps inside soft and bland and generally unappealing. Frisk, however, was eating theirs with apparent haste, which you almost found odd. Sans' share had simply disappeared from his plate when you glanced away, as usual. Papyrus' had followed a slightly more messy route, and he was currently trying to pick something out from between his canines with one clawed phalange. 

"Y'know, I once picked up a guy who had managed to swallow a spoon." Frisk glanced up, interest gleaming in their eyes. You had Sans' attention, as well. "Don't ask me how it happened, or how he didn't notice until he got intense stomach pains. Still, that's nothing on the guy who managed to get a pen stuck in his ear." 

Frisk snorted, swallowing their last mouthful of stew, and you stood, gathering the bowls one by one. Sans followed you into the kitchen, watched as you fill two large, shallow dishes with what was left of whatever it was you had made, and followed you onto the back porch to watch you place them into the snow. You waited a moment, rubbing your arms in some feeble attempt to preserve your body heat, and Sharp and Soft appeared from where they'd dug a shallow cave somewhere close to the shed. 

They ate with soft murmurs and quiet chuffs of what you could only hope is appreciation. You dusted off your hands and turned back to Sans. The bulky skeleton led the way back into the house, holding the door for you, and closing it behind. 

You padded into the living room, raising an eyebrow at Frisk, who was whispering something to Papyrus excitedly. You propped a hand on your hip, feeling Sans loom up behind you, large and radiating warmth. You tried not to think too hard about how a skeleton has body heat. "So. What's the plan for tonight, bud? You're making pretty good progress on that jigsaw..."

Giggling, Frisk grabbed Papyrus' hand. "I'm really tired! Papyrus and I are going to bed early, goodnight!"

With that, the kid practically dragged Papyrus up the stairs, the lanky skeleton's door shutting solidly behind them. You blinked at where they'd been standing, sharing a look with Sans.

"Well, if that isn't the biggest lie I've ever been told..." Sans chuckled. You shook your head, rolling your eyes. "I don't know who they think they're fooling, but, you know what? Whatever. I'll let them have their fun." You scratched absently at a scab on your arm, glancing around the living room. "So... what now? You got any ideas on how to pass the time?" 

Sans shrugged, casting a similar, lost look around, before nodding towards the television with a questioning look. You shrugged back, sitting on the sofa.

"Sure. You know if there's anything on that's not about dissecting people?" 

Sans sat beside you, picking up the remote. "depends." 

You chuckled, folding one leg up into your lap. He clicked through the channels- most of which were static, or simply dark- until it settled on what looked like a security camera's feed, broadcasting a view from somewhere in Waterfall. It's the dark indigo stone and cerulean water you remember, a few clumps of navy blue clovers dancing softly in the current. As darkness settled slowly around you, the water and a few winking gemstones embedded in the cavern wall seem to glow brighter. Every so often, something or another would trot or slink past- an animal, a monster, a stray shadow, it's too faint or too fast moving to tell. 

It's actually a tad interesting to watch, despite basically being something like security footage. You found yourself intently watching the nooks and crannies of the square of world you could see, wondering if you'd spot some ghastly beast looking back at you, watching the cyan water ripple softly around the rocks and whatever else in their path, watching the bobbing leaves of sapphire clover as they drifted in some faraway breeze. 

You drew your knees to your chest, the living room a little on the colder side of things for your liking. It's sometime between night and day by this point, but you didn't want to turn on the lamp just yet; there's something companionable about sitting there in the near darkness, your shoulder almost brushing Sans'. 

Something heavy fell upon your shoulders, startling you. You shifted and craned your neck to get a look at what it was, blinking when the gray fur of Sans' coat tickles your cheek and the black fabric slides over the exposed skin of your arm. You looked up and met his gaze, finding him looking at you rather intently. But that was just his usual look.

"Thanks." You drew the coat tighter around you, tugging it closer over your shoulders. You glanced at the television, then back at the skeleton, hesitating. 

You shifted, folding your legs sideways on the sofa cushion and twisting to face him. His brow bones lifted slightly in response, and he turned a little to reciprocate the pose. One of his elbows was resting on the back of the sofa now, his hand ghosting over the coarse fabric of the sofa close to you. The other rested in his lap. You studied his hand a moment- the nicked and faintly discolored metacarpals, the hooked ends of his phalanges- then absently reached out and grabbed it, pulling it gently up and closer to you. 

You ran your fingers over his, feeling the warmth, the chalky but smooth surface of his bones, the sleeve of his baggy, pale gray sweater tickling your wrist. After half a second of cradling his palm in both of yours, you realized just what impulse you had let seize you, and you glanced up to meet his gaze, hands retreating a few inches, fingers just hovering over his. "Sorry. I, uh..." you sighed, dodging his gaze, almost sheepish. "Truth be told, I've been curious for a while, and, well, my impulse control is spotty at best..." 

He didn't pull away. The soft, red rings of light in his sockets were studying you intently, making you almost nervous. "curious?"

Slowly, you let your fingers resume their roaming, your thumb tracing the space between two metacarpals, eyes tracing the dips and curves of the bones. "About you. Well," you laughed, suddenly realizing how that sounded and feeling warmth prickle against your cheeks, "about your, uh, anatomy. Your bone structure, and all. It's not just any day you get to witness a skeleton in motion without all the muscle and flesh in the way. Well, I mean, for you, maybe, but for me?" 

You chuckled again, brushing a featherlight touch over the small mishmash of bones that composed a humans' wrist. When you glanced up, Sans was watching your fingers move over his, eyes tracking every brush of your thumb, every touch of your fingertips. The indigo and blue light coming from the tv cast him in a surreal way. You'd almost call him beautiful- not quite out loud. You returned your attention to his hand. 

"you're a strange human." His tone was quiet, soft, and something about it left you wondering if he'd wanted to say more but had stopped himself. You laughed under your breath, smiling.

"I know." You turned his hand over, running your fingertips lightly over the back of his palm. "Do you remember when we first met? I mean, of course you do, but... Out there, in the woods, when I first turned around and saw you standing there, you know what my first thought was?"

"what?"

"I wondered if you were accurate to the skeleton's I knew- human skeletons, I mean." You laughed, feeling almost embarrassed by your past self's thoughts. You were practically whispering by now. "A part of me wanted to get a better look at you, study living, moving bones as close to the living flesh as possible without having so much in the way." You felt one of his claws, pressed a fingertip to the sharp edge, smiling not so crookedly, perhaps softly. "And then I took a better look at you, and realized you weren't anatomically correct- you weren't a human skeleton. Just a monster that looked like one."

You turned his hand again, then gingerly pressed your palm to his, fingers splayed against his. His hands were larger than yours, but his phalanges were still thin in comparison to the rest of him- as big around as your fingers, if not slimmer. His bones were hard, unyielding, but warm with body heat and smooth, like porcelain. You gazed silently at his hand, his fingertips curling over yours. Then, you twisted your hand a little, slipping your fingers between his and gradually wrapping them around his palm. As if on instinct, he mimicked your actions, touch oddly gentle, almost careful.

You stared at your hand, interlocked with his. The weight of his jacket pressed down upon your shoulders, warm and heavy. At one point, you thought you heard the click of a door opening, a muffled giggle, and the click of a door closing once more. You glanced up, meeting his gaze, those soft red lights of his eyes tracked on your own. There was something gentle about that look- a look you couldn't quite read off of him. Perhaps a look you'd never thought you'd see in him.

"Y'know-" You stopped, contemplating your next words. You glanced away, then glanced back. "I care about you." You laughed softly at the lame words, feeling oddly flustered. "I don't know what it is, considering you're quiet and secretive and often times I just don't get you, but... I do care about you, Sans. I don't know how else to put it. Now you've even got me confusing myself." You laughed, and a chuckle rumbled somewhere in his ribcage. You gripped his hand a little tighter. "I guess I just... want to see you... okay. Happy, at the end of it all." You sighed, closing your eyes and slipping your hand out of his and into your lap, suddenly feeling embarrassed and ashamed. "I don't know. Maybe that's weird."

"if that's weird, then i'm weird, too." You glanced up at him, but he didn't dodge your gaze. His eyes searched yours. "'cause... i care about you, too." 

You smiled at him, softly. "I appreciate that."

It was truly dark now; the indigo light from the tv cast him almost blue, the lights in his sockets intense red against the darkness inside. He was looking intently into your eyes, as though wondering if your thoughts were written there. "you're a weird human. you're not like any humans i've seen, but you're not like any monster, either. you..." He paused, as though thinking over his wording, eyes switching from first your left eye, then your right. His voice was soft, as though he were talking to himself more than to you. "you're not like anyone i've met. maybe that's why you make me feel... like this." 

You raised your eyebrows, waiting for him to elaborate, but he fell silent once again. He studied your face for a moment, then, slowly, as though he was trying to gauge your reaction, he reached for your face. The tips of his phalanges ghosted over your cheek, and you let them. Apparently encouraged, he smoothed his palm flat across your cheek, thumb grazing below your eye and making you blink. The sharp tips of his phalanges touched just along your jawline, feather light. You leaned ever so slightly into his palm, his bones warm against your skin. 

He watched you intently the entire time, eyes searching yours, gaze almost soft, almost fond. You studied him right back. After a minute, you lifted your hand and, in much the same manner as he, reached for his face. A breath before you could touch him, however, you hesitated, uncertain. Then your fingertips were brushing his cheekbone, your palm resting near his mandible, your thumb tracing beside his nasal cavity, careful to avoid his teeth. His skull, too, was fairly warm and smooth, scarred in a few places with nicks, scrapes, grooves. Had he lived a life constantly fighting to survive? Or were these just the marks of living, of merely existing in the physical world? 

His palm slid up your cheek to your temple, and his phalanges tangled themselves in your hair, claws tickling your scalp. You fell still, staring intently at him, attempting to read him. Was it just your imagination, just the light, just your fatigue addled mind, or did he look longing?

After a minute, you pulled your hand away. He followed soon after. You glanced away, toward the television. A monster was sitting at the edge of the water now, apparently watching the water glide smoothly past. 

"Its late." You breathed, suddenly realizing just how tired you were. Sans nodded in the corner of your vision, and the couch dipped and shifted as he stood.

You slid his coat off your shoulder and extended it to him, intending to grab the blanket off the back of the couch and settle down to sleep. He took it, but tossed it haphazardly into a nearby chair, and took your wrist in his hand as you started to reach back for the blanket. Startled by the move, you looked at him. It was hard to make out his face with his back to the television. He softened his grip and adjusted it until your hand was clasped in his, then tugged. Confused, you stood. 

He led you up the stairs and into his bedroom. Once you had followed him a few steps in, the door drifting shut behind you, he let go of your hand and simply walked over to the bed. Still in his gray sweater, he fell back upon the mattress and shuffled over to one side. You waited for something to happen, shifting awkwardly on your feet, and, when he didn't say anything, walked hesitantly to the side of the bed and looked at him. He dodged you gaze, remaining where he was. Suddenly, it dawned on you. Flustered, you shifted from one foot to the other.

"There's hardly enough room. We'd practically be on top of each other." You said, attempting to be rational, almost like a feeble excuse. He might have sidled over another inch, glancing at you for a millisecond. Was it just your imagination or was there color on his cheekbones? Was that possible? You tugged at your sleeve, glanced around, then sighed. "Uh, sure. Alright. Okay." 

You bent, tugging off your socks, then sat on the edge of the bed and slowly eased yourself down onto it, trying hard to avoid brushing against him. It felt nice to be lying on an actual bed for once; after so long of sleeping on the sofa, you'd nearly forgotten what sleeping on something actually designed for the purpose felt like. Stiff as a board, you lay on your back, staring at the ceiling with your hands folded against your chest. There was a hair breadth between you and the skeleton, and you could feel your heartbeat in your fingertips. You could feel him beside you, his weight, his body heat, his presence, and for some reason it made you nervous.

After a few tense minutes of laying there uncomfortably, you shuffled a tad, then rolled a bit closer to him. You were brushing his side now, and you half expected him to push you away. After another moment of waiting for him to reject you and receiving no response, you edged yet closer and ever so slowly put your head on his chest, his ribcage cushioned by the thick sweater. You lay there with your heart loud in your chest, practically hovering your head over top of his chest, for an instant- then, his arm came down and around you, close around your shoulders, warm against your side. You let out a breath of air you hadn't realized you'd been holding, finally relaxing against him. 

You took a deep breath, then whispered as quietly as possible. "This is... nice." 

He hummed in response, the sound reverberating in his ribcage and thrumming inside your head. You pressed your cheek into his sweater, feeling the solid bone underneath. It wasn't as uncomfortable as you thought it might have been, actually comforting to have someone so close to you after so long of being physically starved for such attention. You blinked slowly for several minutes, gradually falling lax beside him, and eventually fell asleep. The skeleton stayed awake a while longer, gazing up at the ceiling; every so often he would feel his phalanges brush against your skin, your flesh warm under his touch, and he would check to make sure he wasn't holding you too tightly, afraid his unpracticed self would harm you without meaning to. Eventually, however, he, too, fell asleep.

Sleep was dark, dreamless, untroubled.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ooooohhhhhhhhhhhh man, 24 chapters in and we're finally getting somewhere!,,,!!,,! ,,,,, honestly I didn't plan on it taking this long to get here I apologize
> 
> The readers, probably, four chapters ago, trudging through the dark and mysterious hiatus forest: "Chapter twenty... no romance in sight... I'm running low on water... I can only hope something good lies ahead..."
> 
> The readers, probably: "ur a fuckin nerd just get to the point"
> 
> Anyway uh
> 
> Ideas, concerns, whatever, leave them in the comments!! If you have questions, I'll try to answer them! I always try to, but I end up rewriting my response five times before telling my anxious ass that I'll come back to it later and try again but then i dont,,,, I really do like your comments, though! They absolutely make my day! I hope you guys are having a good day and I hope this chapter is okay?? Idk I'm kinda iffy on it tbh
> 
> I'm rambling sorry omg


	25. why do you make me feel this way?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Or, an alternative title,
> 
> "Life will not cut you a fuckin' break, will it?"

Sans woke before you did. It took him several moments to realize just where he was and just who was in his bed, but when he did he quickly checked to make sure you were alright. He had rolled further towards you in the night, practically curled around you, and you were yet closer to him, your face pressed into his sternum and one of your hands clutching his sweater. As he watched, your nose scrunched slightly and your grip turned white-knuckled, as though your sleep was disturbed by his gaze. You were warm and solid beside him, and he experimentally ran the tips of his fingers along the exposed skin of your arm. The hard muscle underneath twitched, and you made a face and buried your head further into the thick cotton of his sweater. 

It was... nice. Waking, with you there beside him. 

And just then, the moment was shattered- Frisk's shrill scream, the sound of a door slamming, a muffled squawk, and your eyes had flown open, pupils contracting and dilating in the middle of your irises. Before Sans had a chance to process what was happening, you were on your feet and racing across the cluttered floor. You ran into the door frame with a 'Crack!', reeled a moment, then wrenched his door open and disappeared around the corner. It was a miracle you didn't take a tumble down the stairs. 

Sans finally came to his senses and went after you. He was a few steps behind you when he reached the kitchen, catching sight of you sprinting out the back door without a coat, shoes, or socks. 

Frisk was huddled against the wall just beside the door, hands over their mouth and eyes wide and terrified. Papyrus was outside, looming threateningly just beyond the porch steps, one hand raised to summon his magic and apparently attack. And, beyond the skeleton- the cowed, huddled forms of Sharp and Soft, terrified and clicking their teeth, Sharp standing over his twin but making no move to strike back beyond showing his teeth. 

"Papyrus, don't!" 

Your voice, sharp and clear in the early morning mist, met Sans as he stepped into the doorway. It was happening so fast- you ran between Papyrus and the Orthrus just as Papyrus swung his hand, and you gasped as one of the bones caught your shoulder, sending you tumbling to the ground. 

You were on your hands and knees a moment, one arm shaking, then you were half up, taking another few steps toward Sharp and Soft. They met you halfway, Soft half rising from a quadrupedal stance to whine and click at you, touching your hand softly with one of their own. You were breathing heavily, one shoulder very stiff, and you sank halfway to the ground, on one knee, but you twisted to face Papyrus all the same, one hand held up as if to keep him away, as if to take his hand in yours. Protective, pleading. 

"Papyrus, don't hurt them." Your voice was softer now, with an almost desperate tinge to it. Your expression was tense, eyes still clouded with the aftermath of sleep. For some reason, Sans hung back a moment. Frisk crept up beside him, clinging to a handful of his sleeve, peering out frightfully.

Papyrus looked lost, confused, shocked with himself, surprised and mortified that he had hit you, caused red to well up under your shirt. "DON'T... BUT THEY HURT YOU? THEY FRIGHTENED THE SMALL HUMAN?" 

He was asking, as if to make sure that was the truth. Confused. Uncertain. 

You took a deep breath, and Sans realized how pale you looked- perhaps it was the shock of being hurt, or maybe the cold. He itched to move forward, but kept his feet planted where they were. He had a feeling this needed to happen. 

"That's... That's true. They did. They did both of those things." Papyrus looked a little relieved that he wasn't mistaken, but confusion still came off of him in waves. You ran a hand through your hair, and Soft nuzzled your shoulder, seeking comfort. "But... they don't want to anymore. We helped them- Frisk and I. We helped them, and they're... they're okay now. They don't want to hurt us anymore. Doesn't that count for anything? They did bad things, yes, but... intentions can change. Their intentions are nothing short of selfless, nothing short of kind, now. Don't intentions mean anything?" 

Papyrus shifted on his feet, running his hands together uncertainly. "I... SUPPOSE..."

"Please, Papyrus. We've all come such a long way. We've all changed, we're all doing better. Sure, they hurt me, but... I've... forgiven them. Can't you? Can't anyone be a good person if they just- try?" 

Sharp stuck his head under your arm, and you gently rubbed a hand along his crown and over his cheek, soothing, comforting. Papyrus watched, still off put, but confusion ebbing. He drew a small shape in the snow.

"I DO THINK SO, YES. YES! THAT IS TRUE! EVEN THE TERRIFIC PAPYRUS CAN BE EVEN MORE TERRIFIC- WITH MORE FRIENDS!" Papyrus seemed to gain certainty with each stumbled word, until he was himself again, uncertainty and confusion gone. "COME, HUMAN! WE SHALL REPAIR YOUR SQUISHY FLESH AND MAKE BREAKFAST, THIS TIME WITH SOME FOR FRIENDS!" 

Papyrus went back into the house, leaving you huddled in the snow and Frisk still lingering in the doorway. Throwing caution to the wind, Sans was at your side in an instant, watching the way you breathed out and seemed to deflate, sagging to one side, wincing and clutching your shoulder. He touched your arm gingerly, seeing the wet scarlet glistening beneath the collar of your shirt and feeling his nonexistent insides twist. 

"you alright?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm okay. Just, uh." You laughed breathlessly, tensely. "It's a little early for this, huh?" You pulled a hand away from your shoulder, shirt sticky with blood. "Ouch."

"does it hurt?" Sans reached for the wound and stopped, suddenly afraid of making it worse. You shot him a dry look, bemused.

"No, I just go around saying 'ouch' and bleeding for no reason." Sans huffed, embarrassed.

"no need to get smart. i'm tryna help you out, here." You laughed under your breath, taking Sans' hand and easing to your feet.

"Aw, shucks. I'm flattered." Sans rolled his eyes, feeling Sharp and Soft ghost past him, slinking into the woods. "So, uh, how'd I do?"

"how'd you what?"

You took a slow breath, getting that look on your face again- that face that meant you were reflecting on the surface. "It's been a while since I've had to use my negotiator voice. I'm pretty rusty. Even before I fell, it had been a few months since a jumper situation..." 

You fell quiet, making your way into the house at Sans' elbow. You shuffled past Frisk and Papyrus, touching Frisk's hair as you passed. They looked at you, a hundred questions in their eyes, and you shot them an apologetic look. 

"In a minute, bud. Let me get patched up." 

You headed for the bathroom. Frisk eyes followed you, lingering on Sans' hand gingerly holding your arm. Sans tried to ignore a flicker of embarrassment, opening the bathroom door for you and looking for the first aid kit while you sat on the edge of the bathtub. 

"It's not as bad as it looks. Shallow cut, more than anything. Some peroxide and a patch should do it. I think the bruise will bother me more than the scrape."

Sans sat beside you, flicking open the box and pulling out a cotton ball and the small bottle of the sharp smelling chemical. You watched him, bemused, as he got the fibers damp before bringing it to your now exposed shoulder. You hissed and winced when he pressed it to your skin, and he quickly pulled it away, pausing before applying it again.

"sorry. it should stop stinging in a minute." 

You chuckled, eyes still screwed up. "That's my line."

He dabbed it a few times, then peeled the sticky, flimsy plastic off the tan patch and carefully applied it to your shoulder, smoothing it to the best of his ability. One of his phalanges caught one of the corners and tore a small rip in it. For a small moment, he was very, very aware of how easily he could hurt you, of what he had essentially been bred to do. 

"Is it on?" 

Your hand slid under his, feeling the bandage with gentle, probing fingertips. Your hands were cold, chilled. You craned your neck to give it a once over, the color returning to your face.

"Not bad. Thanks." 

Sans nodded, made to help you get up. You laughed drily.

"Y'know, it was my shoulder that was hit, not my legs that were broken." 

Sans huffed, hesitantly letting you stand and drift out of the small room on your own. He begrudgingly followed you into the living room. "whatever. forgive me for being concerned." 

You laughed, a true, light hearted laugh, and stopped beside the sofa, a blanket in your arms. You turned and gave him a bemused, gentle smile. "Aw, shucks, Jaws, if I knew you had your panties in such a twist out of worry, I would've been more willing to let you coddle me a bit more."

Sans quickly dodged your gaze, for some reason embarrassed. He flinched when you threw half of the blanket around his shoulders, directing towards you a surprised, flustered look. You smiled, clutching the other corner of the blanket over your own shoulders.

"Sit with me. I'm freezing."

So he did. He was tense, awkward, being cocooned in the blanket with you, so close you were wedged against his side. You, however, seemed to not give a single flipping, flying, fubber ducking care. You adjusted your position, the blanket rustling around you, and now your knee was jammed up against Sans' femur and why did he agree to this.

"Y'know, for a being that has absolutely no flesh, blood, or organs whatsoever, and thus a being with no need to have body heat, you are pretty warm." You hummed, resting your cheek against his shoulder. 

Sans tried not to be too obviously flustered. He didn't understand why such a small and overall meaningless statement had him avoiding your gaze, but that didn't stop the feeling from being any less potent. After who knew how long (time was lost on Sans), Frisk came out of the kitchen, mouth open to probably say something about breakfast, and drew up short, ogling you and Sans shamelessly. You shifted the blanket a bit, one hand emerging to wave at them.

"Breakfast ready already? Or something else?" Frisk blinked, then trotted up to the sofa and looked at you expectantly, a smile growing slowly on their face. You raised an eyebrow. "What? What's on your mind, bud? C'mere." 

You slid your leg to fall over the edge of the couch, pulling back a fold of the blanket to free yourself. You dragged Frisk onto you lap with a grunt, wincing at the apparent strain. With them now seated on your lap, you halfheartedly drew the blanket back around the three of you. Perhaps you should have grabbed a larger one.

"... Well? What's with the look? Smiles like that can never be good." 

You drew your fingers through Frisk's hair, giving them an inquiring look. They grinned yet larger, then leaned forward and whispered something excitedly into your ear. Sans' curiosity piqued, but he ignored the impulse to listen in. You turned red and coughed, scoffing. 

"Oh, please. Sharing a blanket- what's next? Making eye contact?"

More whispering. Your face could have lit up the whole underground suddenly, and you looked like you'd gotten caught doing something you really should not have been doing.

"Oh. You saw that?" Realization popped in your gaze, and it seemed to push back the other emotions just enough for you to be indignant and disapproving. "Wait! You were eavesdropping! Spying! You little snoot!"

Frisk at least tried to look ashamed. (It didn't work very well.)

"Well? Are you?" They asked, glancing between you and Sans eagerly. You frowned, and Sans wished he had listened so he would know what had you so riled up. 

You dodged their gaze determinedly, a trickle of sweat creeping down your neck. "No! For Pete's sake, Frisk."

"Are you sure?" They pressed, leaning ever so slightly closer. Mischief snapped in their gaze. "Maybe I should ask Sans."

You scowled, stood up abruptly, taking them by the wrist. "Give us a minute." 

With that, you and the kid disappeared up the stairs into Papyrus' room. 

 

"This needs to stop. Right now." 

Frisk spun around to give you a look, arms crossed stubbornly. "Why? What's the big deal? It's a simple question."

You rubbed your forehead, a headache prickling behind your temples already. "Because I said so." That phrase still worked on kids, right? How old was Frisk, again?

"That's not a real reason!" Frisk huffed, looking angry. Frustrated, determined, they stood their ground. "Tell me why!"

"Because I don't know! That's why!" You snapped right back, sighing and sinking to sit on the bed. "I don't know. That's the answer. I know just as much as you do, at this point. I'm sorry for snapping at you." 

"What does that mean?"

"It means I don't know how monsters work in regards to stuff like this. For all I know, we're just friends now. I don't know. Please don't ask. I don't know if I could stand it if the answer wasn't the one I expected it to be."

 

You and Frisk came trooping back down the stairs a few minutes later, Frisk not looking satisfied and you looking suddenly shut inside again- as though someone had drawn the blinds and curtains on your personality. You walked right past the sofa, slipping your feet into your boots and dragging your coat over your shoulders. Sans stared after you as you headed for the back door, asking a silent question. You glanced at him but briefly, eyes unreadable behind your lashes.

"I'm just going out for some fresh air. I'll be back in a minute."

Sans heard the door open and shut but made no move to get up right away. The space beside him where the blanket pooled felt oddly cold and empty, suddenly. As much as it confused and flustered him, he liked being that close to you, and, without you, the space felt vacant. Lonely. 

But for once, he would heed your apparent wishes and not follow you out into the cold frostbitten outside. He reached over and gingerly tugged at the other side of the blanket, making it into a suitable shape for when you came back and, hopefully, sat beside him and drew the blanket closer around yourself and placed yourself close to him again. That would be nice.

 

You sat on the back steps, feeling cold and small and alone. Sharp and Soft came creeping out of the bushes, leaning against your knees and nudging you with their smooth, leathery skin. Their faces were still somewhat unnerving, the skin stretched over their skulls in a way that implied features were meant to be there, but weren't. The places their eyes should have been were sunken and empty, unmoving. You rubbed your thumb along Soft's cheekbone, and they purred, an odd, raspy, clicking purr. 

 

Sans glanced up when the back door scraped open. You appeared in the doorway to the kitchen a moment later, but stopped and leaned against the doorframe instead of coming any closer. Sans tried to not feel disappointed. You ran a hand through your hair, breathing out slowly. After a moment, you met his gaze.

"So, uh. Wanna walk with me?"

He nodded, standing and leaving behind the blanket with an uncrushable prickle of disappointment. He dragged his coat over his shoulders as you zipped yours up, already heading for the back door. 

 

You walked in silence for the longest time. You walked, and walked, and walked. Meandered between the trees aimlessly, took random, half beaten trails through the clumps of sparse undergrowth, broke your own path once or twice. Sans wasn't sure where you were headed or why, but he tried not to think about the heavy, suffocating silence too much. 

For the first few minutes, there was a foot of space between you that made Sans wonder if he'd done something wrong. Over time, however, it shrunk; he wasn't even aware of it until suddenly your hand found his and your fingers intertwined snugly between his. He barely flinched, casting you a sideways glance. You stared intently forward, showing no signs of letting go. That was fine with him. 

You kept walking. And walking. And walking. The snow crunched loudly beneath your feet. Sans heard you once- twice- three times- take a breath, hold it a moment, then let it go. Color was touching your ears. 

"Sans." You suddenly broke the silence. He jumped ever so slightly, looking over at you. You were biting your lip. "I... I just want to know if... I mean... I- whoa."

You stopped, and Sans stopped, too, watching as your expression went from troubled to curious, amazed. He followed your gaze, almost frustrated with whatever had stolen your attention. He blinked. Stretching out beyond a break in the trees was a smooth, perfect plain of snow, unbroken for many yards. No tree nor stone nor scuff of troubled snow broke the marble surface. The clearing glowed silvery blue in the half light, making your skin look ghostly yet beautiful. Your hand slipped slowly out of his as you stepped gradually out from the protection of the trees.

"I've never come out this far before." You breathed out, slowly turning as you walked toward the center of the almost too perfect clearing, taking it in. "Wow."

The stalactites glittered with frost high above your head, a diamond dusting of shimmering stars welded permanently to their surface through centuries of time. The snow crunched beneath your feet rhythmically, slow and steady as a heartbeat. You turned slowly on the spot again, your breath a silver cloud around your face, your eyes soft and winking with light from behind your lashes. Sans hung back, content to watch. In a strange way, walking forward felt as impossible as walking into a painting. To walk forward would break the delicate equilibrium of an artist's delicate work.

You stopped several yards away, staring out and around at the sugar dusted trees and unmarred buttercream icing snow smothering the surface beneath. You twisted slightly on the spot, meeting Sans' eye from between two trees. You took a breath, prepared to ask him a question, but just then something creaked ominously all through the clearing, reverberating over your head and bouncing off the trees and through the deathly still air. It seemed to come from the earth itself.

You froze, took a sharp breath, started sharply forward with a hand extended towards the skeleton, spoke his name in a frantic, desperate manner,

"Sans-!"

And just like that, the ground pitched beneath you and you vanished from sight.

 

Water rushed in around you, hit you with the weight of a freight train, grabbing your clothes and dragging you down, down, down. The cold shock of it forced you to gasp, but as soon as the cold claws of the water touched your tongue, you clamped your jaws shut, forced yourself not to breathe. 

The liquid ice filled your ears, your eyes, your nose, made your hands and feet blocks of lead at the ends of useless, sinewy strings. Top and bottom and up and down got mixed up for half an instant, then you were forcing your way upwards, toward the milky light above you.

'Don't panic, don't panic, don't panic, don't panic-'

You shoved your hands upward, muscles feeling as though they were splitting at the seams. Your numb hands smacked against a lid as solid as stone, sending pain searing up your arms, and a second later, unable to stop yourself in time, your head cracked against the ceiling, sending stars racing across your vision.

'Don't panic, don't panic, d-don't panic- I'M PANICKING!'

You frantically tried to beat your fists against the solid sheet of ice above you, but you were slowing down and the water felt like chilled nitrogen dragging you down into the inky darkness beneath your vision and the ice was impossibly solid above you. Tears blurred your vision and scorched your eyes, and you sucked in a mouthful of water as your breath hitched at the oncoming sob. Of all the ways you thought you would die, this was the least appealing.

With a sound like a gunshot, the ice above you shattered and two hands surged down through the water, claws hooking into your coat and dragging you, gurgling and sputtering and gasping for breath, over the jagged lip of a freshly made hole and onto the chilly surface of more stable ice. 

You clung to the warm body of whatever had saved you, water streaming down your face and from your eyes, your muscles feeling as weak as tissue paper, your tongue as thick and heavy as a wad of over chewed gum, your lungs flapping uselessly against your ribs. The claws hooked more firmly in your coat and pulled your closer to that body heat until you could feel the solidness of whatever was inside the thick, heavy coat you could barely feel with your useless, useless fingertips. 

You gagged on air that never found its way into your lungs, spat up a mouthful of stale pond water. Something warm touched your cheek, and, teeth chattering, you pressed desperately into that touch. 

"(y/n)?" 

Sans. Relief washed over you, intense and relaxing. You fell a little slack in his grip, blinking the water from your eyes and peering at him from behind melting vision. "Th-th-this p-p-place sucks-s out my b-brain and r-r-replaces it with s-stupid."

You felt the warm rumble of his chuckle, the shift of him standing, but that laugh didn't sound very amused. "at least you're okay." 

He didn't sound convinced, even as he said it. He pulled you closer, and you felt the tickle of the fluff of his coat against your cheek. You clutched at his jacket the best you could, focusing on two main thoughts: you needed to get your clothes off, and you needed to get warm fast. Water ran down your arms and back and legs and weighed down your whole being like lead. 

"R-r-relat-tively."

You squeezed your eyes shut because it was easier to think with the pain of keeping them open. You felt the lurch of Sans' footsteps and winced, gripping him as tight as your shot nerves and locked muscles would allow. You strangled a wet cough, feeling your stomach heave.

"sorry." Shuffling. A muffled curse. "hold on."

You felt a sudden, terrible lurching feeling, the feeling you get when you overstep on the last step of a flight of stairs, and it sent your head reeling. Your stomach clenched, rolling over and threatening to spill. Sans took a few more steps, and the feeling struck you again, and vomit hit the back of your throat. You swallowed it, panting. 

"G-good l-l-lord, what are d-doing up there? C-c-cut it out." 

"sorry. just taking a shortcut."

You muttered incoherently under your breath, disoriented and confused and colder than a witches tit in a bronze bra. Sans was walking again, and you held your breath and waited for another strange lurch to make you lose your lunch. Instead, you were even more confused when you heard the heavy thunk of footsteps of on wood, and the harsh scrape of a door opening. The cold air fled away from where it had been clinging to your skin, the light changing behind your eyelids, and you could only assume you were now inside a house. What house? It couldn't be the one you'd come to call a strange sort of home, you'd walked so far...

Frisk yelped your name, and it sounded as though a spoon was dropped- the sounds were magnified by tens inside your head- but Sans didn't stop walking. He muttered something you couldn't quite hear, and a small, warm hand touched your arm for a brief moment before you were apparently brought out of reach.

"They're so cold! Will they be okay?!" 

"yes. i'll make sure of it." 

You coughed, feeling as though you'd swallowed a handful of nails, and quipped in response, "N-n-no need to t-talk about m-me as if I'm-m not here." 

Sans chuckled again, sounding a little relieved. "see? they're alright." 

Frisk whined, and you could hear Papyrus' rattling steps draw up beside them- hopefully comforting them. Weren't you a fucking mess, constantly causing this poor kid strife. You heard the creak of the stairs, Sans huffing as he opened his door. You cracked one eye open, squinting at him in the soothing dark. 

"H-how the hell'd y-you d-do that?"

"do what?" He gingerly laid you on the bed, turning away to rummage through something on the floor. Hopefully blankets. Was that sweat shining on his skull? How the hell did that work?

"G-get us-s here s-so fas-st." You huffed, gritting your teeth as you peeled off your coat with uncooperative fingers. It pulled away from your clothes like a dripping, two ton piece of wet tissue paper. Next went the shirt, which was easier, but honestly fuck these pants? Who's idea was it to make pants so hard to take off in case of an emergency? They seemed to grab your ankles and refused to let go, heavy and clutching as iron shackles.

"i told you. i took a shortcut." He turned around, seemed to realize what you were trying to do, and dragged the water heavy cloth from where it was stuck around your ankles and slipped the rest easily off your calves. 

That done, you curled into as small a ball as possible, clutching your frozen skin as though for dear life. Sans sat on the edge of the bed, throwing a thick, scratchy blanket over top of you. You grabbed it desperately, attempted to rub warmth back into your arms with it. Sans, apparently catching on again, gingerly began to rub the wool against your back. At first he was almost gentle, but then, noticing how hard you were pressing, he really began putting some work into it. You winced when the coarse fibers of the blanket scraped over the sore spot on your shoulder.

"E-easy on t-the shoulder."

"sorry."

Slowly, feeling was returning to your hands and feet, and you clenched and unclenched your fists and curled and uncurled your toes to stimulate the blood flow. Your skin tingled and stung with each rub and scratch, but it was better than freezing to death. 

After a while, you gave up, muscles too sore to do any more. You fell slack against the mattress, and Sans stopped rubbing the coarse blanket into your raw back after a moment. You tried to cocoon yourself, but it just wasn't doing it.

"Sans."

"yeah?" 

You shuffled over a few inches, then gave up on moving. You stuck a hand out from under the blanket and patted the spot next to you. "Get over here."

He seemed to hesitate, then there was rustling, and you heard his jacket fall to the floor. He crept up beside you, and your threw the blanket over him and squirmed closer. You grabbed handfuls of his sweater and he, apparently taking the hint, wrapped his arms around and tentatively drew your flush against him. He was warm- wonderfully warm. You closed your eyes, leaning your cheek against him, and breathed a deep sigh.

"you're still shivering."

"Yeah. It'll stop eventually."

Silence. Something clattered downstairs. 

"Thank you."

"you're welcome. what for?"

You snorted. "Hah. Don't make me laugh. It hurts to breathe as is." You took a breath, half opening your eyes. "For doing all this for me. Pulling me out of the water, taking me home, this... A lot of things. Thanks."

"don't worry about it." 

He drew you closer, pressed his cheekbone against the top of your head, breath ruffling your hair. You relaxed your grip on him a little bit, feeling your muscles turn to pudding and melt under the safe and heavy warmth slowly creeping back into you. 

You were preparing to doze off to the soft thrum-thrum-thrum coming from somewhere in Sans' ribcage when you felt a small sigh ruffle your hair.

"this isn't how i imagined coming back to this."

You leaned your head back a little, blinking at him. "Hm?"

He huffed, perhaps turning a faint shade darker and avoiding your gaze almost sheepishly, mumbling. "i thought you'd fallen asleep." A pause. He shifted, traced a circle on one of your shoulder blades with the dull tip of his thumb. "sitting under a blanket. not talking or doing much of anything, just..." 

He trailed off, apparently at a loss for words. His fingers traced the back of your neck, making jitters race up your spine and making you realize you were practically naked. You tried to fight back embarrassment, tried to ignore the swell of conflicting emotions and questions you had about your relationship with the skeleton. 

"Oh." You chuckled, though your diaphragm did not approve. "Yeah, I see what you mean. Sorry."

"it's not your fault."

"I was the idiot that wandered into the middle of a frozen pond without even realizing it."

"you didn't do it on purpose. an idiot would have known there was a pond there and gone out anyway. you can't help what you don't know."

You hummed, a little annoyed he had managed to come up with an argument you didn't have a clever response to. It felt like your brain had turned to moths and cotton balls inside your skull. "I guess."

"just sleep. you've been through enough today."

"I suppose." You leaned your head against his shoulder, eyelids drooping. "Just stay here with me. Okay?"

"of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter kinda stinks bc I refuse to open a thesaurus but you know what???? It's fine bc it's done and I can post it!!!! I know it's been a while and I'm sorry, but look!!! More angst turned fluff(????) I guess!!!!
> 
> I love you and I hope you're having a good day and if you have comments, questions, concerns, leave them in the comments below!!
> 
> Edit: guess who drew Sharp and Soft and then forgot to share it with you guys!!! (It was me.) Be warned, I'm not exactly Picasso. And by that I mean I can't draw to save my life lmao (if it doesn't link properly, forgive me. Just try copy and pasting.)
> 
> https://shibainuunited.tumblr.com/post/159472627731/monsters-beasts-and-mediocre-designs-oh-my


	26. Perhaps I will never understand,

You laughed, stepping half an inch closer to the tall structure, extending your arms invitingly. Bright eyes glittered back at you from several feet above your head, uncertain, fearful. You smiled up at him.

"C'mon, Newbie, we've all had to do it! What've you got to lose? Just jump! It's not as if I'll let you get hurt!"

You laughed again, beckoned with your fingers, blinked- and suddenly were disoriented and in Newbie's place, uneasy, clinging to the posts of the jumping platform. You stared down, stomach turning over, at the ground suddenly far below you- and Sans was in your place, arms extended up towards you, inviting you jump into them, and he spoke your line,

"do you really think so little of me?"

 

You woke with a small gasp, blinking groggily in the dark and dank smell of a damp room. You clenched and unclench your jaw, tasting the inside of your mouth. Stale and gross, your tongue stuck to your teeth. You must have terrible morning breath. 

Someone's fingers ran through your hair, and you flinched. You blinked hard, trying to focus your garbage eyeballs in the half light. Sans' face was close to your own, eye lights scanning your face as though looking for signs of a malfunction. 

"you alright? you were dreaming. fidgeting a lot."

You lifted a hand and rubbed at your eyes. "Yeah. I'm fine. Must've been a weird dream. I think I've had a lot of those recently."

"you think?"

"I don't really remember most of the time. Just kinda get the lingering feeling afterwards." You sat up, scratching absently at your hair. "Anyway, sorry if I woke you. With all my fidgeting." 

"you're alright." 

You slung your legs over the side of the bed. It still felt a little strange, waking up in a bed, despite it having been at least a week, maybe two, since Sans had invited you into his. You stared down at your feet, wiggled your toes. After all this time, still in one piece, if looking leaner and paler and stringier than usual. Would it be 'usual,' though, if you'd been down here for god knows how long? Was this your new usual? Your stomach was growling, clamoring for something thick and heavy with protein. You heaved a sigh. How long had it been, since you'd last had such a thing? Not since you'd gotten down here, that was for sure. God, did a steak sound inviting right about now.

The bed creaked as Sans sat up, the blanket rustling. He sidled up beside you, leg touching yours. You wiggled your toes, feeling the wooly socks stick between them. Was this domesticity? 

Sans leaned over, behind you, and you felt his breath ghost over your neck. The hairs stood up in its wake, but before you could fight back your nerves, his teeth brushed your skin, and a wave of animalistic panic crashed over you. You threw yourself away from him, flung to the floor as your foot caught on something in the darkness. You rolled over, quickly, elbows propping you up, futilely trying to kick yourself away, and stared up at the threat, animalistic fear prickling all over your skin.

He looked hurt. You blinked, falling still as reason stilled the water of your mind, and looked pathetically up at him, apologetic, shameful. His eyes studied yours, for once easy to read. 

"do you really think i'd hurt you? still?"

Your look softened and you shifted onto your knees, searching desperately for the right words. "I don't. I don't, really. You just... startled me. It's hard to un-teach myself a lesson as important as 'everything around me is out for my blood.' I'm sorry. I wasn't thinking." 

You grabbed handfuls of the blanket draped over the side of the bed, attempting to pull yourself up with muscles that weren't what they used to be. Sans grabbed you by your biceps and hoisted you up as easily as though you weighed half as much as you did. Then again, how much weight had you lost since you'd been down here?

"i get it. no touching." His hands disappeared from your skin. Your hand quickly grabbed ahold of one of his before you could stop to think about it. You tangled your fingers between his, gripped hard so he couldn't get away.

"No, touching is okay. I'm starving for it, really. I've got a bad case of skin-hunger." You stopped, glanced up at his shocked look, and laughed. "Okay, wrong choice of words. To be fair, that's what the humans on the surface call it, too, but it doesn't mean what you think it means. It's another term for touch-starved. Like, craving physical affection. Humans are a touchy-feely species, deep down. We need the stuff to be healthy." 

You loosened your grip on his hand, slowly. He didn't pull it away. You ran your thumb along the metacarpals slowly, back and forth, back and forth. He was watching you. 

"So, please, touching is okay. Just... slow touching. Give my instincts a chance to see reason before giving them a chance to go haywire on me. They're kind of shot, as is. This whole place has got me turned on my head." 

His thumb traced a small circle on your wrist. "you seem relatively in control, most of the time."

You hummed. "Practice." You dragged his hand to your face, touched it to your lips, and lowered it again. "I'm sorry I freaked on you. Maybe my dream was freakier than I thought. ...Or maybe I should just take actual responsibility for what I did instead of blaming it on other things. There's no excuse for the way I acted. I'm sorry. Really."

"it's all right. it's easy for me to forget. you maybe not so much."

You laughed. "Right." You leaned over and strained up, shoulder slouching against his, and pressed your cheek against his cold, chalky cheekbone. It was an odd sensation, skin against bone, heightened by the fact that the blood in your cheeks made them smoldering.

"you're hot." 

"Why thank you for noticing." Catching Sans' blank look, you laughed, realizing your joke fell upon deaf ears. "On the surface, some humans use the word 'hot' as a shorter way of saying a person is very attractive." 

"oh." Suddenly, his cheekbone wasn't that cool. He dodged your gaze. "that's... that's not what i meant."

"I know. I'm just kidding."

"oh." He glanced away, then suddenly at you again, and his cheekbone grew yet warmer. "not that you... aren't?"

You blinked at him, confused. "What?"

"never mind." 

"Uh... Okay." 

Through the wall, you heard Papyrus' creaky voice and Frisk's quieter, groggier response. A bed creaked, and a door rattled open then closed again. You pulled away from Sans, stood up and stretched. 

"Welp. Sounds like the energetic crew are up and at it again. Better get going before someone gets the wrong idea." 

With your back to him, you missed the look Sans gave you.

 

You hummed as you got the itch between Sharp's shoulder blades. The monster groaned, arching his back like a cat, though the movement was disconcerting with his semi-human build. After a moment, you retracted your hand and the monster stretched, flexing his claws. 

"Thank you, human... human... friend..."

"Any time."

"Any time...? Any time, then..."

You smiled. It was as though you were introducing the art of friendship to these guys; though, Sans did describe them as being the more feral instances of monsterkind, so perhaps you were. What an odd thought- introducing members of an intelligence species to the idea of companionship and being selfless and giving before receiving.

Soft sat on the step beside you, leaning over and sniffing your scalp. You kept very still as they snuffled through your hair, first working their way up, then down the back of your head. It was odd and it tickled, but the slow gentleness of it eased your initial nerves. Eventually, they pulled away, and bent, now sniffing your hand. You gave them a gentle scratch on the crown, and they purred, in turn taking your hand between their teeth. Your breathing hitched, but, remembering the earlier morning, you held back the instinctive urge to snatch your hand back and shove them away. 

Still purring raspily, they pressed their teeth into your hand- not biting, merely... holding it there. After a moment, they pulled away, licking the faint impression their teeth left behind. A caress. 

You smiled, running your thumb along their cheek. The door scraped behind you, but while you glanced up, Soft remained happily in place. Sans watched the two of you for a moment, then came over and sat on your other side. Sharp edged over and crept halfway around Sans, the black monster's tail brushing your feet. Sans leaned away, eyeing him warily, but you gave him a nudge.

"They're pretty cool with me. I'm pretty sure they're pretty cool with you by association." Sans gave you a look that told you he didn't believe it. "They nearly tried to eat me, and gave me my nastiest scar yet, and now look. Is the idea really so far fetched?"

Sans reluctantly relaxed, then immediately tensed when Sharp planted his claws upon his back and drew them up and down, up and down. You watched, confused, but he didn't seem to be doing any harm; in fact, he was hardly pressing down at all. After a few moments, he dropped his hands and backed away, shoulders up and posture stand offish. 

"Any time... any time..."

You laughed, suddenly delighted and filled with a heart lifting swoop of air. Sans looked perplexed, and cast you a questioning glance. You smiled, nudging him playfully. "Looks like you just made yourself a friend."

It didn't look as though the skeleton quite got it, but he awkwardly dipped his head to Sharp in acknowledgment. The inky monster puffed out a cloud of steam, turning his back and picking at his claws as though nothing happened. 

You snapped your fingers, suddenly having an idea. "Hey, that's something we could do!"

Sans started, giving you another questioning look. "what?"

"I've been dying to get out of this smelly house. I want to go farther than a stone's throw from the back porch without getting potentially eaten, y'know. You said these guys are from Waterfall, right? Could you take me there? Be my bodyguard?" 

All the possible things that could go wrong flew threw Sans head in half a second, and he paused, half ready to relay them to you, but then he glanced up. Hope and eagerness were scrawled across your face in heaps, and for some reason it made Sans' soul pulse wildly in his ribcage. There was no way he was going to be able to tear that apart. 

He sighed and nodded, already tired. You jumped up, made it to the door in half the usual time. 

"Great! Let me go warn Frisk before I take off for god knows how long."

The door closed solidly behind you. Soft stared at it, then tilted their head at Sans. He slouched forward, crossing his arms on his knees and looking them in the face.

"i really am a pushover for these meatsacks, huh?"

 

"alright. close your eyes."

"What? Are you gonna take me through this 'short cut' blindfolded, or what?"

"just trust me."

You sighed, rolled your eyes dramatically, but ultimately closed your eyes, squeezing his hand a little tighter. Sans' soul gave a funny swoop, but he ignored it- yet another thing he couldn't quite reason, he thought with a mental groan- to instead make sure his grip on you was firm before taking a few steps forward. One, two, three, four steps, and there it was- the uneven seam of reality. On the other side, one of the alcoves just on the other side of Waterfall. 

You buckled over when he crossed it, making him jolt down to your side in alarm. Your eyes sprung open, and you gasped, buddy giving a weak heave as you gagged. He'd forgotten how it first felt when the old man planted the power into him- how disorienting it was to step over multiple layers of the fabric of the universe. You were up and getting to your feet quicker than he expected. He blinked, caught off guard, impressed as he quickly caught your arms and helped lift you from the nearly black soil and grit. 

"are you all right?"

"Yeah. Yeah, I'm fine. Just gave me a shock. How do you do that? Seriously. I'm pretty sure this place wasn't so close even when I was running for my life."

Sans chuckled, backing up half a step to allow you to steady yourself. "i told you. it's a shortcut."

"Alright, mister cryptic-answer-mcfuck, whatever you say. Let's just get this show on the road."

"okay. what do you want to see?"

"Anything. Everything. Just take me on a walk."

"okay. stay close and step lightly."

Sans peered out of the alcove, relieved to see no one was around. This was one of the more sparsely populated areas of the Underground; Snowdin, close to the falling point, Hotland, close to the exit, Waterfall close to the neither. He beckoned you closer with one hand, and stepped onto the path. You slipped out of the cove behind him, coming up beside him and grabbing his hand fast in yours. He gave a slight start, but focused when the gravel path crunched up ahead. 

He pressed you closer and slightly behind himself with one hand, backing you into the cliffside looming above the path. You held your breath, but all that appeared was a small monster- a child. They raced over the path ahead, disappearing into a patch of tall grass. 

You gripped Sans' shoulder, peering over it to where the child had disappeared. Sans relaxed, allowed you step up beside him again, noticing the flicker of something- an emotion? Recognition? Realization?- behind that bright eyed gaze. He'd only seen you look so attentive on your first ventures in Snowdin and during the first week or two of staying in his house. He wasn't sure he liked the feeling it gave him- guilt? Regret?- but it made his soul jitter when you glanced up at him, eyes wide and round with something almost like childlike wonder.

"So? We gonna go or what?"

 

You tread on over path after path, following the line of the cliffs, sometimes crossing streams and creaks and shallow pools, checking your shoes for leeches and staining the ends of your hard worn jeans, now rolled up above your ankles, a bright cerulean blue. The moss squelched under foot and the pebbles rolled and crunched beneath your steady, even steps. Sans' footsteps were quieter than yours, but when you stepped carefully in sync you sounded like one beast, footfalls together as one. 

You bent and scooped up a handful of sapphire clovers as you walked past a bundle, examining the leaves before they slipped, wet and clinging, through your fingers. "The vegetation in this place is strange, but I suppose, living in the dark, they would have to develop something other than chlorophyll to get their energy, huh?"

"chlorophyll's only common in a handful of the flora down here."

"Yeah, figures. It's in just about every plant on the surface. Makes everything so green." You dragged a hand along the cliff face, smearing the indigo clay across your fingertips. You glanced up, and gave a start. "What's in there?"

Sans paused, then veered toward the gap in the wall you had indicated, keeping his senses open for other monsters nearby. Inside was another shallow cove, empty of monsters, but off to one side stood something that looked severely out of place- a piano. 

Sans was wondering what on earth such a thing was doing in this place when your hand slipped out of his. You drifted toward the instrument, sat, and lifted the lid above the keys. They were chipped and discolored, a few missing here and there, some stained a grayish red and others a faint teal. You touched a key, and the sound came out, calm and high and clear. A few more, in sharp succession. You hummed.

"Could use a good tuning..."

Sans edged over to guard the entrance to the cove, realizing you might want to stay a while and that the noise might attract predators. You touched a few more keys, but Sans wasn't truly paying attention to you- his sights and figurative ears were tuned to the path outside. 

A few more keys. A few more, in a more regular pattern this time. Sans glanced at you, surprised- a melody? 

You were staring at the instrument with a dutiful intensity he'd only seen in you when you were patching up Frisk or the Orthrus, methodical work done with a certain grace he found oddly charming. Fingers danced over the keys, light and floaty yet landing precise more often than not. It took you several minutes of back tracking and trying again whenever you hit an apparently incorrect key, but within fifteen minutes you were playing something slow and soft, melancholic and gentle- nearly a lullaby. 

Sans watched you, watched your eyes flicker over the keys, watched you chew your lip as you concentrated. You were... cute. Pretty, beautiful, in a very you sort of way. He found himself really liking the way your eyes lit up with each small success- a candle flame of life flickering brighter inside of you with each small note played. 

He... liked that. He liked that a lot.

Sans jumped near out of his metaphorical skin when your hand touched his arm, snapping him harshly out of his thoughts. He hadn't even noticed that you'd stopped. You gave him a concerned look, head tilted every so slightly to the side. 

"You okay? I'm ready to blow this popsicle stand."

Sans, suddenly very thoroughly embarrassed and flustered, nodded sharply, snatching up your hand. "yeah. let's go."

With his back to you, he missed the look you gave him. 

 

"This place is so incredibly unsafe. Like, sue-dogs would have a hay day down here."

"what dogs?"

"On the surface, some people take advantage of certain things to sue the living daylights out of just about anybody. I've always called them sue-dogs, sniffing out the next big name to cause a ruckus. They're the reason you see weird signs like 'don't sit on fence' on fences with small spires on top of each post."

"huh."

"That probably didn't make any sense."

"not really, no."

"You'll understand one day."

Sans faltered in his steps, glancing at you from the corner of his eye. You were watching the wooden platform beneath your feet, slimy and slippery with algae and moss and mildew. It was originally only meant to be a temporary structure, Sans was fairly certain; they planned to build real bridges here, with railings and proper supports, when they were first exploring their new prison. Somehow, that had never happened. 

You thought they would all get to surface one day. Was that you looking reality in the face, or was that naivety? Did /Sans/ think they would get up there one day? He glanced at you again. Did it really even matter? 

'You'll understand one day.' Did you think monsters would live peacefully beside humans, someday? Did you think monsters even /could/? Did... Did Sans think they could? Would you reach the surface one day, together? Would you get to watch the sun break the surface of the horizon, side by side? Would you conquer two polar worlds meeting once again after centuries, hand in hand? Why did he want so badly to think you could, and why did the thought of the answer being 'no' terrify him so badly?

A deep, bottomless black abyss stretched out beneath your shoes, infinite and ever expanding. Sans and Alphys had once experimentally dropped several objects over the edge of the creaky wooden deathtraps, but the things had dropped and dropped without ever seemingly hitting a bottom. Alphys had claimed she'd heard the glass ball hit bottom and shatter, her with no eyes to see and heightened hearing to make up for it, and Sans had believed it though it was far out of range for himself. What would happen if a body dropped so far, Sans had mused to her. The skittish scientist had turned queasy and said she didn't even want to think about it. Thinking of fragile bones crunching into bloodied fragments at the bottom of the trench, Sans suddenly understood why. 

You gasped, exclaimed a terrified "Oh my god!" and ripped your hand out of Sans', taking off across the rickety platform. 

Sans gave a start, staring stupidly after you. You raced for several yards, then skidded to halt, slipping and sliding to the very edge of the wooden planks. Sans' soul jolted when you threw yourself down, half of you disappearing over the edge, and he was there in an instant, grabbing fistfuls of you jacket and hauling you desperately back to safety. His claws brushed your ribs and he felt you heave in great gusts of air.

"Oh my god." You panted, sounding disbelieving yet relieved.

Sans crouched on the cold, sticky planks of wood, mind whirling, with you still firmly between his hands. You slowly relaxed from the tense ball you had formed, breathing in and out deliberately slow. In your arms, staring up you through eyes as wide and round as an owl's, was a monster child, one with no arms and a line of spikes going down their back. One of them had cut a clean slit in your arm, just below your elbow. Slowly, you pulled them away and settled on one knee, setting them carefully on their feet. You gently held them where their shoulders would be, but they made no move to attack or get away. You took a deep breath, then attempted to blow loose strands of hair out of your face. 

"Good lord, bud, you gave me a fright. You could've fallen to your death there. You gotta be more careful." A long sigh. You touched a scrape on their cheek, eyeing them carefully. "You okay, bud?" The monster child nodded, still staring at you intensely. "Good. That scrape looks shallow, but just in case..." You licked your thumb, then smudged the dirt away from the small injury. "Clean that properly when you get home, okay? An infection in your face is nothing to scoff at." 

Out of the corner of his eye, Sans noticed a glint of cerulean blue and blazing gold. He looked up, locking eyes with a hulking monster a hundred feet away, posed with a spear in hand.

The monster kid nodded, then seemed to study you a moment before suddenly bursting out, "Are you a human?"

You chuckled lightly. Sans edged a little ways backward, giving you space. "Indeed I am."

The monster child cocked their head. "But you helped me."

"Indeed I did." You stood up, joints snapping loudly in several places, and settled most of your weight on one leg. Sans stood up behind you, close to your shoulder, keeping an eye on the still silhouette, though it kept its distance. 

The kid shifted from one foot to the other. "... Can I eat you?"

You laughed. "I'd prefer if you didn't." You stooped- the monster at the end of the wooden bridge moved suddenly, weapon raised to throw and impale- and gave the child a gentle pat on the head. "Get along home, buddy. Let this be our little secret, okay?" 

The kid's eyes lit up with childish excitement. "Our secret? Like a friend secret?"

You smiled, bemused. "Sure thing. Just don't tell anybody you saw me, okay?"

The spear fell a few inches, the monster's pose slackening. After a few seconds, the weapon dissolved entirely, and they backed away, disappearing into the darkness beyond Sans' sight.

"I promise I won't, human!" They paused. "... Can monsters be friends with humans?"

You slid a bemused look Sans' way. "I would believe so."

"That's so cool! Bye, human! I promise I won't tell our secret!" 

With that, they took off in the direction of Snowdin, little legs flying. They tripped, then just as easily hoisted themselves up and took off again. You planted your hands on your hips, watching them until they disappeared. Then, you turned to Sans. There was a smudge of dirt smeared across your cheek.

"Do you think they'll get home okay?"

He chuckled. "yeah." He reached for your face, wiping the damp, sticky dirt away with his thumb. "you're funny. you could've killed yourself trying to save that kid. i don't even know them or where they came from."

You shrugged. "Dying for a good cause is better than watching someone die out of selfishness for your own wellbeing. I've done that one too many times." You caught his hand as he pulled it away, entangling your fingers with his. "Ready to go home?"

There was a flicker of movement, somewhere far away and above your head. Sans caught the glint of dark metal armor on a distant cliff, but he kept his gaze determinedly on you.

"yeah. let's go." 

Home. Yours, and his.

 

The underground was empty, Sans' footsteps echoing across empty plain after empty plain. The air was thick and heavy with fog, dust and debris making phantom shapes in the mist. He was looking for something, searching desperately for- what? He couldn't remember, and that was what scared him the most.

"Papyrus? kid?"

But nobody came.

"Papyrus?!"

But nobody came.

"Orthrus?"

But nobody came.

"(Y/N)? please..."

But nobody came.

He collapsed, wanting so badly to keep looking, to find them, all of what he had left to fight for, but how could he, when there was so little hope? His gaze ripped desperately around, claws sinking into snow that was gritty and gray and harsh against his bones. "please, come back! you can't leave me here alone!" 

But nobody came.

 

Sans woke with a shock, staring out into the darkness of his room. The unease and terror of his dream lingered like fog in his mind, and he stayed still, not quite wanting to get up and see if it had merely been conjurings of his sleeping mind. Something warm and soft brushed past his eye socket, making him flinch. He glanced up.

You were sitting up, back pressed against the headboard of the bed, legs, for once clad in shorts, stretched in front of you, eyes half closed and distant but content. His head was resting in your lap, one hand across your thigh, and you had your hands tenderly holding his skull there, one still giving his crown long and gentle strokes of your palm. Upon noticing the movement he had made in glancing up at you, you looked down at him, looking faintly surprised. Comfortably sleepy. 

"Hey." Your voice was soft, gentle. Concerned and caring. "Are you all right? You were dreaming." 

He blinked up at you, suddenly swept up in his gratitude and disbelief at having you here, in his bed, with him, your hands warm and soft against his bones. He buried his cheekbone into the malleable flesh of your thigh, one hand gripping a handful of the back of your shirt and the other gently feeling the skin just beyond where the shorts ended. 

"yeah. i'm... i'm more than all right."

"I'm glad. I was worried." 

He stared at a scar on your leg, just beyond the bridge of his nose. Small and pale, it was a perfect line in your skin; he wanted to see them all, some day, see all the little scars and discolorations, like stars and constellations in your skin. 

"just... stay here with me."

You leaned over, brushed your lips to his skull, just above his eye socket.

"Of course."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoop whoops guess who's just turned into an adult and is graduating soon and is moving house 
> 
> I'm very stressed
> 
> Anyway, sorry this took so long! Lotta life stuff going on at the moment, ha ha. I feel like it's not that great, and I apologize, but I'm so excited to just have it done and posted and have you guys read it and hopefully like it!! I'm sorry if there are typos, I didn't do a very good search, I was eager to just get it finished,,
> 
> Monster kid appears! Undyne reappears! Shit might go down next chapter! Awkward love or whatever the fuck is going on between Reader and Sans!! All this and more, in this weeks chapter! I hope you enjoyed! Can't guarantee I can post regularly, but I'll try to have another out in a week or two. 
> 
> Questions, comments, concerns? Leave them in the comments and I'll try to respond to some of them sometimes!!
> 
> ((Also I got fanart??? And honestly it made me so happy asdfghjkl thank u u know who u are ur the best))


	27. this thing we've decided to call love.

Sans woke up, and you weren't there. 

For a moment, he was disoriented. He felt around for you, for your warmth, and when he came up with nothing he cracked open his sockets. For one terrifying moment he thought he had crushed you unintentionally in his sleep, or maybe kicked you off the bed in the same manner he often kicked off the sheets. Then, for another, even more terrifying moment, he thought perhaps the kid had been killed sometime in the night, sending the underground back to the beginning. 

Then the door to his bedroom swung open and you backed in, sheets and blankets bundled up in your arms. You let the light coming from the hallway act as the only light source, turning around and draping the bundle over the foot of the bed. Sans sat up. You fumbled with them a moment, then dragged a sheet out and began to straighten it. 

"Hey, morning, sorry if I woke you. I figured it was about time to change the sheets up here, they look like they haven't been changed in fifteen years. Woke up and felt antsy, needed to pretend to be productive. I don't know if I've said this before, so forgive me if I have, but I'm surprised your washing machine works, it looks like it went to hell and back again. Can you hand me the pillow cases?"

It took Sans a few seconds to process the request. He was still soaking in the fact that you were here, doing kind things without prompting, casually speaking as though this was the most normal thing in the world. He scavenged around for the pillows for a moment, shed them of their cases, then extended them to you. You glanced up, fresh pillow cases in hand.

"Thanks, I-" You broke off, suddenly focusing on him with concern that shocked him, "Hey, are you okay?" 

No. No, he wasn't. He was suddenly overtaken with the realization that you were but a temporary token in the underground, an accidental addition, something that could be taken away with the softest squeeze. 

And, fuck, if that didn't make him stupidly, irrationally scared. 

He had been debating with himself if what he had been doing had been right- if his actions were smart, or sensible, or logical. He had questioned himself if what he felt was what he thought it might have the potential to be, questioned if he even could feel such a thing, questioned if he should feel such a thing for you, you, a weak, feeble, fragile thing called a human being. He considered it a possibility, but, then, would it be right to act upon such a feeling if you weren't certain the subject of it returned it? He had decided it was alright when you didn't reject his advances, when you even went so far as to return them! But he was afraid to admit it, even in his head. Afraid to admit that, yes, he did, he felt that, he felt this strange and foreign and wonderful thing for you, and felt it so strongly that it made him afraid.

And suddenly, he couldn't deny it any longer. He did. He felt that stupid, irrational, wonderful thing for you. And it scared him. And he felt like such a coward. 

"yeah. i'm fine."

You dropped the pillow cases, sat on the edge of the bed, gingerly touched his cheekbone, almost as if you were afraid of being pushed away. "You sure? You look like you've seen a ghost."

Sans leaned into the touch even as he wondered if he deserved it. A joke, a joke to ease this stupid tension. "why, is Napstablook around?"

Confusion crossed your face, and your eyebrows scrunched in a way Sans found wonderfully adorable. "Napsta what? Is that someone's... Wait, I recognize that. Is that the thing that cried themselves a noose and floated off when I approached?" 

Sans chuckled, nodded. That sure sounded like the ghost monster. Your hand fell away, brushed his as you stood. 

"Alright. I'll take your word for it. Can you give me a hand with these sheets?"

"sure."

With two doing the work like one, it went by twice as fast. When you finished straightening the sheets and tucking in the corners of the blanket, you both stood back to examine your work, Sans a little behind you, your shoulder level with his sternum. You stared at the freshly made bed for a while, not really saying anything. Then, you sighed, and leaned yourself on him, head on his chest. He allowed himself to bend his neck and lay his chin upon your crown.

 

You were doting about the kitchen with Papyrus, currently chopping up something to put into one of Papyrus' experimental 'human safe' meals. Frisk had nicked their finger on the blade, and was currently nursing the wound on the sofa in the living room, Sans with them. You didn't often spend time alone with Papyrus; he seemed to favor Frisk, and you were content with the company of Sans, anyhow. The relationship between you and the taller monster was a little astranged- like you shared a mutual friend but didn't know the other outside of the occasional awkward meeting.

"HUMAN?"

You gave a slight start at the sudden voice, glancing over to see Papyrus stooped over a simmering pan on the stovetop. You turned back to what you were doing, rhythmic chop-chop-chopping filling the silence. "Mhmm?"

"DID YOU HAVE MANY FRIENDS? ON THE SURFACE?"

You chuckled, smiling. "A few. There was Leslie Weslin, she was a real card. Franklin, oh, boy, Franklin sure was something. Boss, he had a stick up his butt but he was a nice guy at heart. Charlotte from a few doors down. The Andersons, but they just dropped by with their most recent baking experiment every so often, I was their guinea pig. That kid I babysat for a few years kept in touch. And... Newbie." You stopped chopping, slowly put the knife off to the side. A sudden wash of emotions crashed over your mind, and you frowned slightly, beginning to mumble, "I wonder if he's- if they're- looking for me. They've probably given up by now, but..." 

A soft sniffle drew you out of your thoughts, and you turned to see Papyrus' head hanging, shoulders shaking every so often with soft cries. Dark, rust colored tears dribbled out of his sockets, but he made no move to hide them or wipe them away. You quickly dropped what you were doing, wiped your hands on your pants, and paced over, gingerly placing a hand on his shoulder.

"Hey, hey, what's wrong? Whatsa matter, buddy?"

His head hung yet lower, and he sank to sit on the floor. "E-EVEN HUMANS HAVE MORE FRIENDS THAN THE GREAT AND TERRIBLE PAPYRUS... IT IS BEGINNING TO FEEL LIKE I WILL NEVER BECOME LOVED BY SO MANY. EVEN A HUMAN HAS ME BEAT. HOW CAN THE GREAT PAPYRUS COMPETE?" 

You knelt on one knee beside him, having to look up into his face despite. You gently rubbed his humerus. "Hey, c'mon. I don't have /that/ many friends." You decided to skip over the part about a human having him beat, not sure whether to be offended or not. "Your life's worth isn't measured in how many people like you."

"IT CERTAINLY FEELS THAT WAY. I THOUGHT UNDYNE USED TO BE MY FRIEND, BUT SINCE I HAVE BEFRIENDED YOU AND THE SMALLER HUMAN, SHE HAS HAD NOT SO MUCH AS SCHEDULED A TRAINING SESSION, AND I HAVE BEGUN TO WONDER IF SHE EVEN CARES FOR ME ANYMORE AT ALL..." 

"Oh, Papyrus..." You sighed. "I know how it feels when it feels like people start shunting you out of their lives for petulant or irrational reasons. It hurts, I know, especially when it feels they were the only person you had in the first place. I'm sure she's just been busy. She'll come around. And, no matter how long that takes, hey, you've still got me, right?" You gently touched his cheekbone, thumbed a tear track away. 

He sniffed, reaching up with one long, slim hand and rubbing some of the tears away. "I SUPPOSE."

"And Frisk? And Sans? Even Orthrus."

He nodded, letting you mop off his face with your sleeve. "YES."

"Seems to me like you social circle isn't that small at all. Certainly not a bad start, anyway." His head still hung low, and he sniffled softly. You frowned, then tried to smile encouragingly. "Just wait till we get to the surface. I’ll introduce you to all my pals. They'll love you just as much as we do." 

He lifted his head, peering at you from infinitely dark sockets. "YOU THINK SO?"

"'Course I do. Who could resist the great and terrible Papyrus, after all?” He smiled, but it looked wobbly with tears. You sat back on your heels, patted your chest with open palms. "Alright, bring it in, big guy. Gimme a hug." 

He collapsed against you, head falling over your shoulder and arms draping over you like warm, loosely jointed tree branches. You bundled him up in your arms the best you could (with Sans, it seemed impossible to wrap your arms around him, though he was soft enough around the edges and warm enough that it felt like he was shielding you from harm, but with Papyrus it was as though there was simply too much to hold despite the infinitely long arms raveled around you) and rested your chin on his bony shoulder.

You ran your palm up and down his back, humming quietly into his spiky shoulder pad. His tears wet your shoulder, turning the pale gray of one of Sans' sweaters dark and soggy. He sniffed and whimpered lowly for a handful of minutes, but despite your aching knees you were content to help him in the best, or perhaps only, way you knew how.

He heaved a great breath, then pulled away, wiping at his dripping cheeks with the back of one long, slim hand. 

“Here.” You reached up and swabbed his cheekbones with the sleeves of your sweater, stopping and giving him a brief pat once he was relatively dry. You smiled. “Better?”

He nodded. 

“Good. Now, come on. I've got those vegetables chopped up, what do you have in mind for them?”

You stood up, offering your hand to the skeleton. He rose up above your head, quickly recovering as he began to dote about the kitchen once more. You helped where he would let you, but eventually you were left hovering awkwardly to the side as he took over completely. You scratched the back of your neck, wondering if you should just go ahead and excuse yourself, then edged out of the kitchen and into the living room. He seemed okay.

Sans was on the sofa, a blanket bundled up beside him, and the faint noise upstairs told you Frisk was in Papyrus’ room. Sans stared at you expectantly when you walked in, and you chuckled inwardly as you shambled over. You plopped yourself into the “nest” (it almost looked like he had put them that way on purpose) of blankets, and blinked when Sans almost automatically drew it up over your shoulders and gently pressed you closer to him with one wide palm on your back. You more or less fell into his side, and his chin nestled upon your hair, a quiet sigh ruffling a few strands of hair hanging in front of your face. 

For a moment, you just laid (somewhat awkwardly) in his slightly (incredibly) unexpected embrace(?). “So. Uh. How’s it going?”

He hummed a small, content hum, and you figured he was going to let himself drift off. You chuckled, folding your legs onto the sofa and snuggling into the crook of his arm. 

“Yeah. Me too.” 

 

Sans leaned back against the sturdy, marred wood of the sentry stand, his breath a cloud in front of his face. It was cold and sharp outside, and a gyftrot slunk past, long legs clicking and steps deliberate. Its eyes winked in the light as it glanced briefly in Sans’ direction, a plume of steam rising from its nostrils as it carried on. It faded into the distance, and silence settled, thick and heavy as before. Sans continued to wait. He could be patient.

Snow crunched heavily up ahead. Sans lifted his head just a fraction, glancing from the corner of his socket. Ah. Just as he expected. He'd been expecting her to confront him sooner, but he supposed your words had hit home harder than she would like to admit. Still, after your recent little excursion to Waterfall, there was no way she- or he, for that matter- could avoid the subject at hand.

She stopped a handful of feet away. He straightened. 

“Sans.”

“Undyne.” 

Silence. But he happened to rather like silence. 

“Why have you not done your duties and presented the humans to Asgore?”

He shrugged. “why haven't you? you actually tried, and look how far you got.”

“Don't get smart with me. I could snap your soul right here, right now.”

“but you won't.”

“God damn you. The one time you actually address me and it's to act smart. And over a human!”

Silence. Well, if she didn't want him to be smart, maybe she would prefer his quiet. She snorted, then growled, one heavy boot grinding into the snow.

“I don't understand you, skeleton. One soul to break the barrier. One soul, and we could all be free! Here we have two, and you still refuse to bring either of them! Two, yet you deny me the thing we so righteously deserve!” 

“you lay one claw on either of them, and i will deal you a wound i deem equal to the one you have dealt them. and i am not an unbiased judge.” 

She blinked, fins rising in shock and indignation. “Are you threatening me?”

“that depends. it’s not a threat if you don't make yourself one.”

“… Sans. Bring one to me, and we can pretend this whole confrontation never happened.” 

“you already tried to capture them. twice. and you're still empty handed.”

Silence.

“Undyne. you already know why i’ve spared them. you spared them yourself. you saw what i see, even if it was just for a second. they haven't harmed anyone. they've helped multiple monsters. we can wait for another to fall.” 

She drew a deep, billowing breath. Suddenly, she looked old. Tired. “But must we? Sans… we are so tired of waiting. There are monsters who are starving. I know they seemed like one of us, but can’t you just let them go? You can't actually have bonded with a human.”

Sans dodged her gaze, but only for a fraction of a second. That fraction of a second was all it took. Her eye widened, and her shoulders rose. Sans held her gaze, defying her electric yellow stare.

“Sans.” She sounded disbelieving. Almost angry, but not quite. Almost sad, pleading, but not quite. “You can't. They're a human.”

He held her gaze, posture stiff and tense. Defiance. He was already in neck deep; he would not let himself be told that was wrong. Her look of disbelief- pity?- slowly sank into a scowl.

“Sans-”

But he was already gone.

 

Sans sagged against the side of the house, letting out a plume of tired air that condensed thickly in front of his sockets. That could have gone marginally better. Well, at least he got the message across. You were not necessarily Sans’- no, you were much too strong to be owned like a possession, he mused to himself- but he would fight if harm attempted to find you, and he would fight with all his worth. He knew Undyne was a reasonable monster at heart; hopefully she would heed his warning and stay away.

Sharp and Soft came galloping out of the woods, something dangling from between Soft’s teeth. They skidded to stop in front of Sans and milled about one another in a merry, welcoming manner, rumbling softly. He cocked his head, then raised a brow as Soft grabbed one of his hands and dropped the drool-covered thing into his palm: a bundle of leaves, soft and sharp-smelling. An herb of some kind. They'd been bringing you all kinds of plants for ages now, apparently thinking you just liked them after watching you pluck at pine needles. Sans gave Soft a small pat. They purred, grinning out at him through many narrow, sharp teeth. 

Sans pushed the door open, quickly shutting it behind him to shut the cold out. You and Frisk were on the sofa, legs draped over the back and heads dangling over the edge, while Papyrus laid on the floor in front of you, flipping idly through an old, weathered book. You glanced up as Sans shuffled over, smiling lopsidedly up at him.

“Why hello.” 

“heya. havin’ fun there?” Sans snorted, feeling a grin pull at his jaws. 

“Why, yes. Care to join us?” You waved a hand to the spot next to you. Frisk was giggling, peering up at him from over your shoulder. They had an odd, smirk-like grin on their face, and Sans noticed their elbow jab your side, which you promptly ignored. 

“nah. i’d rather put my feet up.” 

You cocked an eyebrow at him, watching as he sidled over and sat in the empty space, promptly putting his legs across your stomach. 

“Oof!” You wheezed, hands flying up to try and pry his tibia and fibula away. “Oh god, your legs are heavy! Get off!” You groaned, then broke off in a breathless laugh, a pink-cheeked smile stretching across your face. 

Sans grinned and sat back, crossing his arm behind his head. “nah. i don't think i will.”

“Is your marrow concrete or something? Your stupid legs are crushing me!” 

“i’ll think about it if you ask nicely.” 

“Saaaaaaans!”

 

You eased down onto the mattress beside Sans, eyes glinting in the half light. It was pitch black outside, the faint gray static of snowflakes falling past the only thing breaking the night. Sans extended his arm and you rolled halfheartedly into the embrace. 

Silence had settled over the house like a thick, heavy quilt. The air was stifled with it. Sans could feel your breathing beside him, could feel your how stiff and tense you were. He expected you to relax after a while, but after nearly an hour you were still tense. He glanced over, and could see your eyes flicker as you studied the ceiling several feet above your head, watched the wink of light dance off of your irises as you blinked.

He was debating asking if you were alright when you suddenly groaned and heaved yourself upright, grinding your hands against your eyes. Sans blinked at you as you sat up, head drooping behind your shoulders. 

“… y’alright?”

“Sans.” You sighed. “What are we?” 

He frowned. “what?”

“I mean…” You gestured between you and him with one hand. “What is this? What are we?”

Oh. Sans felt uncomfortable heat crawl across his cheekbones, suddenly embarrassed. He'd thought he'd made his intentions blatantly clear- he had, by monster standards, what with the “nest-sharing” and small soulmate caresses, like stroking your cheek or touching the back of your neck with his teeth (things that only monsters who trusted one another completely would do or allow), and his overall gentle, at times playful, attitude towards you- and he thought you'd returned his advances. Suddenly, it occurred to him that human courting might differ from monsters’.

“I'm sorry for asking out of nowhere, and for maybe making you uncomfortable, but, I just… I don't know if I could stand another second not knowing if it's what I think it is. Please, tell me, whatever it is.” You sounded tired, and small. Sans frowned and sat up beside you.

“i’d… i’d like it if we could be… this. together. maybe we can… call it that word that starts with an ‘L’. if you want.” Sans held his breath, and for whatever odd, irrational reason felt afraid. 

You took a deep breath, and leaned back against him. “Yeah, I… I think I'd like that.” 

“good. i would, too.” He wrapped his arms around you and laid back, dragging you backwards with him. 

You let out a deep sigh, lolling your head up to peer at him through tired, half closed eyes. “Glad that's settled.” You closed your eyes. “I hate how vulnerable you meet me feel.” 

Sans chuckled, still abashed. “ditto.” He bent his head and touched your crown with his teeth- an awkward thing that could almost be perceived as a kiss, if you wanted.

You snorted, eyes still close, then peered at him. “Hm.” 

You wiggled out of his grip, confusing him, then propped yourself up halfway and slung one leg over his hips. You crawled over him until you were settled directly atop of him, arms beside his ribs, and legs between his. You felt around behind you for a minute, then halfheartedly drew the blanket back over top of you. You nestled your chin on his sternum and peered up at him through your eyelashes. 

“I swear to god, if you make this sexual I'm gonna snap your dick off and feed it to an alligator.” You mumbled, laying your head to one side and nuzzling his sweater with your cheek, eyes drifting shut. 

Sans snorted, smiling despite his similar fatigue, and nuzzled the top of your head in a similar manner. He draped an arm over your back and relaxed into the mattress. This was… nice. For once, Sans let himself be stupid, carelessly happy, then, he slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Awkward love and relationship fluff with random Horrortale headcanons sprinkled in!!! I hope you like it, I'm sorry it took so long, life has been chaotic recently,, ;; ((If certain parts of this chapter are awkward or weird, it was probably on purpose. Probably. Most likely. Maybe. >>; ))
> 
> But guess what??? Now we can get into relationship things!!!!! Have anything you'd particularly like to see? Drop a prompt in the comments and I'll see what I can do!!
> 
> Love you guys and hope you enjoyed hhhhh


	28. Letters to kids that I once knew

Dear team,

Hey. Hope things are going okay. Did the coffeemaker get fixed yet? Are you still looking for me? (If yes, don't worry; I'm ok. You can stop.) Miss you guys. Sorry for disappearing. Didn't plan on being out this long, ha. Fell into the world of monsters. They like to eat people, but I'm ok. Managed to survive long enough to make some friends. Managed to survive long enough to get into a relationship, ha! Leslie owes me 20 bucks. Don't bother sending it by mail. Wouldn't do me any good down here. I would kill for a steak right now though. Just buy one of those and drop it down that fucking hole. Be careful not to trip. I think I'm going crazy. Maybe just vitamin deficiency. Maybe I've been crazy all along and this place just brings out the crazy in you. Maybe crazy runs in the family. 

Don't think I'm ever getting out of here. Might ask my skeleton to give me a proper burial. Miss you guys.  
(Y/N)

 

Dear Mom,

Hi. How have you been? Are you still alive? I am. Barely. Might not be for much longer. Protein deficiency and what not. I fell under a mountain a while ago. A year ago? More I think. Met the one guy that actually made me feel something. Turns out he's a skeleton, ha, yeah, I was surprised too. In a relationship now. Don't know if you care. Moms are supposed to care about this stuff, right? Nearly thirty and I finally get the urge to contact my long lost mum when I fall into a fuckin hole in the mountain, ha. 

Hope you're fuckin happy, wherever you are.  
(Y/N)

 

Dear Charlie + family,

Sorry for not answering your emails, texts, calls, etc. Been stuck under the mountain. Phone is broke. I think it broke my fall, ha. Guess who got into a relationship while on a vacation to a lovely underworld cannibal humaneater hell resort? Yours truly. Think I might stay permanently to be with my second skeleton, ha. Or maybe because there's no way out without committing an act of murder, ha ha. How's the family? Aunt Margaret recovering ok? Hope chemo’s been kind to her. Sorry I can't babysit your bird anymore. Sorry I left on such short notice. Didn't exactly plan this vacation, ha. 

Good luck with college, bud.  
(Y/N)

 

Dear library girl,

Hello. It's that medic that tried to save your life. How have you been? Does heaven exist? If it does, can you please tell everyone I said hello and that I'm sorry. I really am. I'm sorry I'm such a coward. I'm sorry I couldn't save you. Is your baby okay? Did they come with you? Please give them a hug for me.

Sincerest apologies,  
murderermurderermurderermurderer

 

Dear Newbie,

Hey. 

I'm sorry. For falling down here. For maybe leading you on. For being a massive train wreck of a human being. For not knowing what I wanted. I'm sorry we didn't turn into what I know you wanted us to be- yeah, I knew. Sorry I'm not a normal person. Go find someone not as broken. I would just break you. 

Found the person that made me realize my humanity. All this time I thought I was broken or just stupid or blind but turns out I just needed to fall into fuckin hell and find the right monster. He makes me feel ok in a place where ok is hard to come by. Sorry that couldn't have been you.

Try to be happy. Sorry.  
(Y/N)

 

Dear S-

“(Y/N)?”

“Hm?” You glanced up, pencil falling slack in your hand. The wall was cold against your back, your legs sprawled across the coarse carpet. Frisk and Papyrus were pooling over a jigsaw with over five hundred pieces, whilst Sans was lying on the sofa, sockets closed. Frisk was peering up at you curiously.

“Whatcha doing? Can I see?” They crawled over and leaned over the book you were using as a hard surface, straining to see what was scrawled on the handful of papers in your grip. You quickly drew it out of sight, and they frowned.

“Nothing you should worry your sweet little head about, bud. Just big kid stuff.” 

“I'm a big kid!”

“No, you ain't. You're, what, ten?”

“Eleven!!”

“You ain't even old enough to buy cigarettes yet. You're a kid.”

They blew a raspberry at you, but decided to drop it. You took a deep breath, carefully folding up each piece of paper into halves before tucking them snugly between the pages of the old, dusty book. You stood up, stretched, then slid the book onto one of higher shelves of a bookcase, far out of reach of Frisk’s prying hands. You rolled your shoulders, wincing, then turned back around. Frisk and Papyrus were back at the puzzle, and Sans had cracked one socket open and was peering out at you from one infinitely dark socket, a tiny glint of red telling you he was awake. You smiled. The corner of his jaws twitched up ever slightly. 

You shuffled over and Sans sat up as you approached, grabbing a blanket from the arm of the sofa. You plopped yourself down beside him and he promptly nestled you in the blanket, making you roll your eyes. He leaned against you lightly, and to retaliate you leaned back harder. He snorted and let you shove his shoulder with yours, making you snicker. 

You relaxed, crossing one leg up into your lap and resting your head on his collarbone. One of his hands traced your side carefully, running over the ugly, tough scar as if it wasn't even there, though you were sure he could feel it, even through your shirt. You let out a slow sigh as his hand slowed to a gradual stop, resting against your skin. After a moment, he dropped his hand to the sofa cushions, his fingertips brushing your thigh. Your hand lunged to his wrist in an instant, making him glance at you confusedly. You let him go as quickly as you had grabbed him, laughing sheepishly and avoiding his gaze. 

“Sorry. I'm just ticklish there.” 

His sockets lit with mischief, and a grin tugged at the corners of his maw. “that so?” You squinted at him.

“Don't even think about it…” 

He leaned over you and you twisted to push against his shoulders with no real conviction, the blanket slipping off the sofa and pooling on the floor. You felt a jitter of nervous amusement prickle up your arms, and you grinned despite yourself, still squinting at him.

“No. Sans, no. Don't even-”

“too late.” 

His hands found your ribs and you immediately burst out into a laugh, squirming. 

“Nohohoho! Stohahahap!” 

He touched your stomach, and you kicked and thrashed and shoved, shaking your head frantically as you tried to fight back a hysterical giggle. The hooked tips of his phalanges were too good at what they were doing, ghosting just along the edges of your skin and brushing over the rolls and folds in the malleable flesh of your sides. You were gasping and shrieking and laughing like a madman, tears seeping into your eyes as your cheeks burned with embarrassment and delirious amusement.

“Nooooo! Sahahahahans! Plea-hee-hee-hee-se!”

Finally, after one last long, drawn out tracing of your sides with his claws, he stopped. You kept on giggling for several moments, nerves still sending off the ghosts of the jittery signals, cheeks burning pleasantly, arms sore from beating against his ribcage weakly, hands weakly gripping his shirt. You huffed and wheezed for a minute before coming back to your senses enough to peer up at him, still smiling deliriously. 

He was smiling down at you in a way that made you feel lightweight and floaty and flustered all at once, sockets half closed and hands planted firmly on either side of your head. You breathed out, smile creeping down into something softer and curiouser, and lifted a hand, gently cupping one of his cheekbones. 

“Sans…” 

A slightly confused look crept onto his expression. “what?” 

“Your eyes. They're white. How'd you do that?” 

He turned a rather adorable (wow, try telling you from a year ago that you'd be thinking this monster was /adorable/) shade of red and ducked his head slightly, dodging your gaze. You laughed, patting his cheek. 

“It's okay. I like it.” You leaned up and planted a chaste kiss at the edge of his mouth, pulling back and feeling the blush return to your face as you tried to get used to being affectionate. 

He stared down at you for a moment, eyelights soft and white and gazing at you in a way that made you flustered all over again, then suddenly lowered his face to yours, teeth awkwardly meeting lips. It so thoroughly caught you off guard that you didn't fully register the feeling until a second before he pulled away, and in the following instant your realized what that had been an attempt at- a slightly strange, somewhat jagged skele-kiss. You felt yourself flush and laughed, burying your face into his shirt in embarrassment. He chuckled above you, and you felt a hand press gently against the back of your head, returning the embrace. 

“You guys are totally a thing!” 

You pulled away, blinking. Frisk bounded up to the sofa and beamed at you, looking victorious.

“You guys have gotta be a thing, now. You can't pull any ‘I don't knows’ after that! Ha! I was right! See, Papyrus, I told you!” 

You rolled out from underneath Sans and scooped the kid up as they turned their back to you. They squealed and squirmed, laughing, and you staggered with their weight. 

“You little snot! We were having a moment!” You pressed your knuckles into their hair and rubbed harshly, making them laugh and shriek and beat against you with their small, harmless fists. You lost your balance, staggered, and fell, taking the kid with you.

You laughed breathlessly, rolling away from the tangle of limbs. Frisk continued to lie on their stomach, still giggling, as you hoisted yourself up halfway on the sofa. Sans’ hands came down and took your wrists, pulling you up beside him. He was smiling again, eyelights still soft and white, but the look sank slightly when he took in your face, confusing you.

“ah, geez.” One palm found your jaw, his thumb touching a place on your lip that stung when he brushed it. You touched the place with your own finger and came back a faint smudge of pink on your fingertip- in giving you a kiss, one of his teeth had nicked your lip. You laughed. 

“Whoops. That'll be an occupational hazard.” You smiled, winking playfully. “Well? C’mon. Kiss it better.” 

Sans turned red and Papyrus promptly picked Frisk up and disappeared into the kitchen.

 

Sans groaned, rolling over and reaching for you, wanting to pull you closer. It almost felt like the bed was empty. 

…

Okay, so maybe the bed /was/ empty. He cracked a socket open, then sat up, scratching his jaw. Well, you certainly weren't in this room, but the light creeping in from under the floor told him a lamp was still on downstairs. With a huff, Sans stood up and shuffled to the door, pushing it open with one hand. 

The stairs creaked as he descended, but the faint humming that met his senses didn't stop. He stopped at the end of the banister.

You were humming a rolling, distracted tune under your breath, holding Soft’s hands in yours as you circled and danced lazily about the room, Sharp watching from as fair a distance as his tail would allow. You staggered and stumbled over Soft’s feet, but the inky monster seemed to be enjoying themselves, jaws hanging open in a pointy grin. The monster clearly had no idea what exactly it was they were trying to do, getting pulled and tugged helplessly around the room beside you, but neither of you seemed to mind. On a side table was a stack of papers and a bottle of whiskey. 

You looked up as Sans entered the room, letting go of Soft’s hands to twirl over to him. You fell backwards against his chest, and he quickly caught you in his arms. You nestled into the embrace, groggy and smelling of alcohol. 

“Ggggood evening, sir.” 

Sans chuckled, righting you gently. “you should be sleeping, y’know.” 

You nodded. “I know. But the wind kept me awake, so I let these guys in for the night.” You gestured to Soft and Sharp, would had dragged a blanket off the couch and were settling down atop of it. “Then I remembered there was some stuff I wanted to finish, and my dear friend alcohol played its role in helping me do that.” 

Sans hummed, lifting you into his arms. “you sure do know how to keep a surprisingly level head when you're drunk. how d’you do that?” 

You put your arms around his neck, chin landing on his shoulder. “Runs in the family.” There was a contemplative pause, then you hummed thoughtfully. “Mm, well, no, I take that back. Maybe just being an alcoholic runs in the family.” 

Sans shouldered the door to his room open, purring quietly when you pressed your cheek against the side of his skull. “sh. just sleep.” 

“Alright.” You slid out of his arms, immediately nestling into the sheets. “Hey, Sans?” 

“hm?” 

“I… g’night.” 

“night.” 

You pressed your face into the pillow, a small hum of content soon turning into a gentle snore. Sans stood quietly a moment, then disappeared down the stairs once more. 

While picking up the bottle of whiskey to put away- best if Papyrus or Frisk didn't come across that in the morning- Sans noticed again the pile of papers sitting beside it. Most of them were folded up to hide their contents, but the two on top were lying halfway open. The one that caught Sans’ attention was the one at the top of stack- the words were written in a lopsided, messy scrawl, and it got messier as it went:

‘Dear dad, 

you're the worst person ive ever met and ive met a lot of people 

I wish I could run you over with your car

thanks for showing me the kind of person I never want to be

You're a shithead,  
The child u never wnated in the first place’

Rife with discomfort at reading something apparently private, Sans hastily scooped up the whole stack and tried to figure out where to put them in the meantime. After slipping the bottle of whiskey into a niche in the cupboards, he paced the living room, searching for a discreet place to slip the papers into. Soft yawned and stretched as he passed, tucking their head under one arm as Sharp laid his head on their shoulder blade. 

Finally deciding to stick the papers- letters?- between two books on a random shelf, Sans paused. 

One of them was addressed to him.

Uncertain, he tugged it away from the others and held it open with one claw. 

‘Dear Sans, 

(Here, there were several lines of scratched out writing; from what Sans could make out, they were attempts at wordy, lengthy explanations of- something. He couldn't quite make out enough to know exactly what. There was only one line, written in small, carefully crafted letters, that remained unmarked.) 

I love you. 

(Y/N)’

Sans had to take a moment, then smiled, and tucked the letters away for safekeeping. 

A few minutes later found him back in bed, his arms around you. You hummed in your sleep and rolled closer into his embrace, face pressed against the crook of his neck. 

He loved you, too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Mmmmmaggafsfsggagaga this chapter is short and shitty and I'm sorry but I'm really trying to get back into writing,, sorrysorrysorry if this has typos I rushed it,,,, 
> 
> Uhhhh. Things you wanna see? Scenarios you'd like to see explored? Questions? Leave them in the comments! If u want. U don't gotta. But I'd like it if u did.
> 
> (((Also I doodled Sharp and Soft again oops https://shibainuunited.tumblr.com/post/162454117181/honestly-is-there-anything-better-than-monster )))


	29. Between moments of quiet

Soft stretched and rolled across the carpet, their back pressing into your knees. Despite the name you'd given them, there was nothing excess or soft about them- their back was hard and compacted, rolls of muscles bundled up under tightly stretched skin. 

You reached out with a hand and lightly felt over where the knobs of their spine attempted to make themselves known, then flattened your hand across their shoulder blades. Tough, leathery skin, pocked with scars, greeted your own flesh. They purred and chuffed, one long, slim, hand, tipped with inch-long claws like iron, running over your ankle. They rolled onto their back, bearing their stomach to you, and you could see the gray lightning strike of scar tissue running over their side, the one Sans had given them, so much like the one they had given you.

You smiled, and they grinned back, mouth full of too many teeth, oozing sticky drool. They were almost unnerving- almost human-shaped, but not quite. You touched the edge of their ribs, stroked their side, and they rumbled a happy groan. “Two of a kind, you and me, huh?”

It was nearing evening- Frisk was scribbling away in the corner, and Papyrus was cleaning something or other in the kitchen. Sans had disappeared up the stairs not long ago. It was quiet, the sound of crinkling papers and the clatter and murmur from the kitchen the only noise disturbing the still, still air. 

“Hey! That's mine!” 

You glanced up just in time to see Frisk snatch a piece of paper away from Sharp, who snorted, studying them. Frisk clutched the paper closer to their chest, wrinkling their nose angrily at the black monster. Sharp sniffed a few times, dipped his head close to the clutter Frisk had accumulated, snuffled amongst the papers for a few moments, then took a different piece of paper between his teeth. Frisk gasped, dropping the first and lunging forward to snatch it back.

“No! Those are mine! Give them back!” 

There was a brief tug of war which ended when Sharp, staring, baffled, at Frisk while they tried to wrench the paper from his teeth, simply opened his jaws and let Frisk fall backwards with the drawing. Frisk was beginning to go red in the cheeks, which surely meant a temper tantrum, so you quickly stood- Soft glanced up at you curiously, rolling to tuck their legs beneath them-, dusted yourself off, and headed over just as Papyrus loomed in the kitchen doorway. He was beginning to eye Sharp balefully when you arrived and hastily stepped between.

“Now, hey. Hey. What's all the fuss about over here?” You forced your way into the confrontation, trying to break up any fights before they happened. Sharp was the more temperamental of the two, and you feared he would lash out at Frisk before they realized better. 

Frisk clutched a bundle of crumpled, soggy papers to their chest, squinting blearily at Sharp. “That one keeps on trying to take my stuff!” 

“Is he, now?” You put your hands on your hips, lifting an eyebrow at Sharp. He tilted his head. “Or maybe he's just curious. Well, Sharp? Just what are you doing over here?” 

He sneezed softly, then spat out a small scrap of paper and directed his attention to one of the drawings. He seemed to be studying it intently. Maybe he didn't even know what it was or what it meant. 

“I think he's just curious. Sharp, ask nicely if you can see them next time. Okay? Ask nicely.” 

Frisk still seemed peeved, but it could have been because they should have been sleeping over an hour ago. Sharp peered at you, then at Frisk when you gestured toward them. 

Sharp stood up and moved toward Frisk. They squinted at him, then began edging backward. He paused, then loomed ever closer, jaws parting slight, a rumble in his throat. He took a deep breath and puffed it out into their face, their hair lifting with it. They were starting to look scared when he leaned his face toward theirs.

“… Human… human…” He rumbled, one hand lifting toward their face.

You darted forward, quickly pushing your way between him and the kid. Papyrus wasn't looking very happy, and you put out your hands, attempting to stop the building disaster, one hand on Frisk’s chest, the other on Sharp’s shoulder. Sharp started back, looking startled by your reaction.

“Hey! Hey. No. Let's calm down. Alright? Sharp, no. This is Frisk, all right? You can't be acting like that. They're our friend. So none of that. Okay? Be nice. They're just a kid, they're just my kid. Okay? You've gotta be nice.” 

There was a long, tense pause. You slowly relaxed, pulling Frisk to your side and gingerly drawing your hand away from Sharp. He stayed where he was, head tilted slightly to the side, studying you. Frisk clutched your shirt, tense, and they tried to cling to you as you slowly pulled away from them, drawing them carefully in front of you.

“Okay, Sharp? Be nice.” 

Sharp eyed you, then Frisk, then back again. He edged forward experimentally, stopped, then crept forward again. He glanced up at you, then leaned toward Frisk, sniffing. They flinched back. 

“… F…risk?” He sniffed them, eyed your hand on their shoulder, and seemed to understand. “Frisk.” He leaned closer- Frisk tried to lean back, but had run out of space for such things- and squashed his cheek against theirs. They screwed up their face, clearly not quite liking the touch, and after a moment he pulled away and sneezed softly, turning away.

There was a collective relieved sigh, but you lifted your eyebrows when Sharp bent his head and picked up a random pen. He took a moment to scribble, then dropped the pen, and took the paper between his teeth. 

It was just a random mishmash of zigzags and curls, smeared by his drool, from what you could tell. Frisk stared at it, clearly not getting it either. You squeezed their shoulder gently. 

“Well? Say thank you.” 

“Er. Thanks, I guess.” 

Sharp grinned, jagged teeth all over the place, and rumbled as Soft came meandering up to see what was happening. “…Frisk…”

Soft gently bumped their twin’s shoulder with their forehead, murmuring a slur of sounds you couldn't decipher. Sharp turned his head and pressed his face to theirs for a brief moment, then the two ambled away and plopped themselves onto the sofa, sighing comfortably as they apparently settled down for the night, the bunch of freeloaders. 

You jumped slightly when Frisk clutched your hand, casting them a questioning glance. They yawned, rubbing at their cheek halfheartedly. 

“Those guys are weird,” they mumbled, extending their arms up toward you. You chuckled, bending and bundling them up into their arms. It was a struggle to straighten, and your muscles strained under the new weight, but with a bit of help from the wall you managed. 

“Nah. They've just got a different way of expressing themselves than what you're used to. You ready for bed, bud?” 

“You're weird, too.” 

You chuckled, shuffling over to Papyrus. “All right. Say goodnight to Papyrus.”

“Don't tell me what to do. ...Goodnight, Papyrus.” 

“GOODNIGHT, SMALL HUMAN.” Papyrus lifted one long, thin hand and gave Frisk’s hair a gentle stroke, expression surprisingly intent, thoughtful. You lifted a brow, but ultimately turned away without saying anything.

The trip up the stairs was certainly something, but you managed to kick Papyrus’ door open after only stumbling once. You lowered Frisk to the bed, took off their socks, and draped the blanket over them. They sank into the comforting darkness of the room, one hand coming up to clutch your fingers as you knelt beside the bed. 

You smiled, running your thumb over their knuckles. “Goodnight. Sleep tight.”

“… Don't let the bedbugs bite…” they mumbled, pillow muffling their words. 

“I'll see you in the morning light.” 

You smoothed their hair away from their face and pressed a gentle kiss to their forehead. They cracked one eye open and peered at you, smiled, then sank back into dozing. You smiled, stood, and backed out of the room, gently closing the door. You stood still a moment, staring at the swirls and stains in the wood. When you finally turned, you jumped.

Papyrus peered down at you, then took a few steps closer towards you, effectively herding you into the corner beside his door. You felt small beneath him- he was tall, thin, as though he'd been stretched out a bit too far, but you knew those hands could easily break your own fragile bones. Normally, you didn't even think about these realities, but something about this situation was a tad unnerving. 

“Heya, Papyrus. Gonna hit the hay, so to speak? I was just about to head to bed myself.” 

Papyrus cocked his head to the side, never letting up on that stare. “… HUMAN. YOU CARE ABOUT FRISK DEEPLY, AND YET YOU LET THEM COME SO CLOSE TO THOSE DANGEROUS MONSTERS.”

You ran a hand through your hair, trying to decipher the situation. “Sure, they're dangerous. You are, too. Heck, I am. Everyone's fine. Everyone's safe. And now we all understand one another a little better.” 

Papyrus leaned over ever so slightly, looming over you. “YOU TOOK A GREAT RISK. THEY COULD HAVE BEEN HURT.” 

You eyed him, tense, confused. You'd had the situation under control. Maybe he just didn't trust Sharp and Soft the way you did. “That's… true.” 

He touched your shoulder, expression suddenly softening, and when he spoke, it was very quiet, almost a whisper, “PLEASE, DO NOT DO THE SAME WITH MY BROTHER. I DO NOT THINK I COULD STAND TO SEE HIM HURT.” 

You let out a breath you hadn't realized you'd been holding, smiling gently. You reached up, touching his cheekbone lightly. “It's alright. You don't have to worry. Hurting him is the last thing I want.” You carefully pulled him down and stood on the tips of your toes, touching your forehead to his. “You all deserve to be so, so happy. That's all I want. I promise you.” 

He took your hand and squeezed it tenderly, sockets closing. “THEN I WILL HOLD YOU TO THAT, AND WORRY NO LONGER.” He pulled back and backed away, grasping the doorknob to his room. “GOODNIGHT, (Y/N).” 

“Goodnight, Papyrus. Sleep well.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, it's short, I'm sorry. The next chapter should be longer, plus you can expect it to come out quicker than usual! I've already got my groove goin' in on it, so it should come rather easily! Starting and finding my swing with it is always the hardest part for me,,
> 
> This was originally going to be part of the next chapter, but the flow became kind of awkward, so have a little bit of Frisk-Reader-Sharp-Papyrus bonding time I guess??? I'm rlly sorry if it's bad, I've been having a rough week 
> 
> Btw, i don't know if it's obvious or not, but I try to make Sharp and Soft interact in the way two of our cats (who are brothers) interacted when they were young and inseparable :0
> 
> Ideas, questions, comments and prompts for future chapters are all appreciated! Hope you guys have a good night, wherever you are!


	30. Flesh and bone

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> CONTENT WARNINGS FOR:  
> Body dysphoria   
> Disassociation  
> Self hate/body loathing  
> Body exploration/touching
> 
> (Don't worry, this chapter isn't NSFW. Nothing goes on below the belt, I assure you. And, yes, it is intended to be gender-neutral.)

“Hey, Sans, I was thinking, and- oh god, I'm sorry, I'll come back later!” 

You shut the door a little louder than you'd intended, heart pounding, something like embarrassment making your skin prickle in waves up and down your cheeks and neck and arms. You stared at the door, backing into the railing and startling yourself as you did so. Sans’ voice came through the door, muffled.

“it’s alright, you can come in.”

You stood infinitely still for a moment, then edged forward. You reached for the doorknob, hesitated, then slowly cracked the door open, glancing inside. You held your breath, then slowly crept into the room, the door drifting gently shut behind you. 

Your breath caught in your throat. Sans was standing beside the bed, usual gray turtleneck in his hands- and not on his body. His ribs curled, smooth and silvery white, in elegant curves from his sternum in the light filtering through the window and from within. Clavicles, scapulas, cervical vertebrae- all bare and born to your eyes. From behind the third and fourth rib on his right side shone the faint glow of an upside down heart, roughly the size of your fist. You stared, oddly afraid, at his exposed torso, then glanced up into his face, eyes wide. His eyes stared back you curiously, expression the slightest bit confused. 

You dodged his gaze, running a hand through your hair, and clutched the front of your shirt. “I, uh- ahah. I really, um, I should just, uh-”

“it's alright. i’m not bothered.” 

You flustered, chewing the inside of your cheek and studying a small discoloration on the ceiling as you absently rubbed the back of your neck. “I, uh, yeah. I'm- I’m not, either. It just… caught me off guard, that's all. I don't think I've ever seen you, uh-”

“shirtless?” He treaded closer, leaving the sweater on the edge of the bed. Now his lumbar vertebrae were exposed. Heat crept up your neck. You tried really hard not to stare, fingernails digging into the back of your neck.

You swallowed. “Well, I suppose that's one term for it. I'm sorry, it's just, I've never, er- well, okay, first things first, I've never seen a ribcage like- like this, before.” 

He stopped a few inches away from you, eyelights studying your face. “are you embarrassed?”

You coughed, staring at a loose thread on your left sleeve. “Well, I mean, I suppose that's one word for it.” 

He took your hand and you flinched. He paused, giving you the option to pull away, then gently pulled your hand closer to him and pressed it to his sternum. “curious?”

You tried to breathe steadily, feeling the warmth of the bone beneath your fingers, gently running your thumb over a particularly rough, chalky place. “Yes. That, too.” 

He released your hand, allowing it to stay where it was. “go ahead. i’m not bothered.” 

You stared at him, studying his expression. He seemed to be eyeing you tenderly, expectant. “… You're sure?” 

He nodded, and you hesitantly relaxed your hand against his smooth, warm bone. You felt over a small ridge of bone running vertically down his sternum, then ran your fingers up and over one of his clavicles. The bone was chalky, warm as flesh, and in some places nicked. You slid your fingers down, then along the gentle curve of one of his ribs. His ribs- or, his entire anatomy, really- were thicker, sturdier than human bones. Human ribs were really a strangely delicate thing, able to come apart and break easier than one might imagine. These? These would not break without some serious force, or perhaps just the right kind of force, at just the right angle.

Your thoughts had wandered while you examined his ribcage. You blinked, and felt yourself flush again as you realized your fingers had gone lower, lower- down to his bottommost rib. You snatched your hand away and backed up, looking at anything but him and feeling your ears burn hotter than the sun. 

“I'm sorry! I got carried away, I should- I should-”

“it's alright, i don't care. do as much as you want. i would tell you if i was uncomfortable.” 

You flushed yet brighter, feeling a trickle of sweat run down your neck. He came closer, and you stayed where you were, stone still. His fingers brushed your hair, tucking it behind one of your ears. Before he could speak, you blurted out, “I’m sorry. I am. It's just- I don't know what's gotten into me.” 

He touched your cheek, and you bit your lip, staring at a loose thread hanging off one of your socks. “you don't have to be afraid.” 

You shook your head, blood pressure rising ever higher. “I'm not! I'm not, I swear, here, I'll just-”

You pulled away a little bit, then grabbed the hem of your shirt and pulled it over your head. The cold came in a rush to kiss your exposed chest, stomach, back, all at once. You shivered, the hairs along your arms standing up, and suddenly felt very exposed. Vulnerable. Afraid.

In the past, you had detached yourself from your body so much that it was just- a thing. The thing you were in. Not you. Just the organ carrier your brain so happened to be inside of. A sack of flesh and organs that did what you wanted it to, most of the time. That was all it was. Fat or skinny, scarred or dimpled, who cared? It was just a thing.

But you'd never been like this with anyone- bare skinned, intimately. The intimacy of it was what scared you, because your body suddenly wasn't just a thing- it was you, the only part of you Sans could see, could touch, could hold in his hands like it meant something. And with that came a fear, a thrill of terror- what if he didn't like what he saw? Were you ugly? Too fat? Too thin? Discolored? Bruised? Pocked? As imperfect as you felt?

What if he didn't like you?

You clasped your hands to your arms, hiding your chest the best you could, and lurched backwards, red from the tips of your ears down your neck. You were thin and gaunt from your time in the underground, scars and scratches and folds of pale, sagging skin marring what should have been an elegant human form- suddenly, the hunk of meat you inhabited almost didn't feel like it belonged to you, and you hated it. You dodged his gaze, chewing the inside of your cheek. This was a bad idea. Rewind, undo, start over-!

“hey.” 

His voice was soft, quiet, like a feather ghosting over your eardrums. His hands brushed your shoulders, hovering millimeters above your skin, and you squeezed your eyes shut, afraid of what you'd see on his face if you opened them.

“you don't have to show me if you're uncomfortable. i get it, it must be… weird, for you-”

“That's not it!” 

You gasped, swallowing last the lump in your throat and suddenly finding your gaze locked with his. The expression on his face was surprised, confused, concerned. Your heart throbbed, uncertain. You swallowed. 

“It's just- I mean. I've never… done this before. I'm, um, well, I've never, been in a… relationship. Before. So, y’know, you can understand, I'm just- new at this. So. There's that. I'm- I'm pretty sure that's it.” 

Lies- uncomfortable, all-consuming lies- bubbled past your lips like hot tar. Well, no, not lies- it was true, what you'd said, just not the full truth. Your skin crawled as though it wanted to get away from itself, and you knew that wasn't just first-time jitters.

His thumb touched your chin, claw brushing your lower lip, and his gaze pierced right through your eyes and to the back of your skull for a few long moments. “… are you sure that's the only thing bothering you?”

You inhaled and seemed to deflate in the exhale, laughing as you ducked your head, running your hands up and down your arms. “… No. No, it's not. I'm- oh, Sans” you laughed “I'm not exactly very appealing and I'm aware of that. It's making me… self conscious.”

His expression sank, softening, and he touched your cheek with the back of his hand. “you shouldn't be.”

“Oh, Sans.” You sighed, closing your eyes and taking several deep breaths. “Don't lie to me. I know what I look like, and what I look like right now wouldn't be considered very good looking for most anyone on planet Earth.”

“i do not lie.” His breath fanned your face, and his forehead touched yours. He stared at you, long and hard. “and i think you are perfectly appealing the way you are. no matter what shape you took, you would still be lovely to me, because you're you, no matter what you're inside of.” 

His gaze flicked to your chest, then darted back to your eyes. You flushed, dodging his gaze and feeling suddenly much more flustered and much less hopeless. “… Okay.”

“good.” He pulled away a bit, then lifted his hands to your shoulders, pausing. “may i?”

Heat prickled up and down your neck, but you nodded jerkily. “Yeah. Sure. I mean, I did you, so…”

“do you want me to? are you certain?” His gaze was suddenly stern, probing, searching. You stared back, feeling like a deer caught in head lights.

“Yes. I'm sure. It's okay. I'm okay.” 

“okay. relax. i promise i won't bite.” His hands touched your shoulders, and you jumped. He smiled, comforting. “just close your eyes.”

You hesitated, then squeezed your eyes shut tight, trying to block out any and all thought along with the light. His touch, warm and chalky and scuffed, suddenly left your shoulders. You waited, holding your breath, then gasped when his hands slowly pried your arms away from your chest.

“i promise i won't do anything you don't want me to. say the word, and i’ll stop.” 

“O-okay. What word is that?”

“‘stop.’”

“L-little on the nose there.”

“heheh. you keep stuttering.”

“Shut u-up.”

He chuckled, then gently let go of your arms. You flinched when his palms spread out flat against your stomach, slightly chilled against your skin. His hands stayed there a moment, then went in opposite directions, down to your hips, thumbs brushing where your hip bones pressed against the outer layers of flesh. A jitter shot up your spine. 

“Please don't go any lower.” You whispered, half praying out loud.

“of course.”

He seemed to think, then his touch ran slowly, slowly up your sides, up to the slight dip of your waist, up to the knotty, purple scar left by Soft. His fingers felt over that spot particularly, though you really couldn't feel it- the scar tissue muted most touches. Seemingly realizing this was making your discomfort slowly mount, he slid his hand a little higher to avoid touching it. 

He gave the soft rolls of flesh a gentle squeeze, claws tickling you just enough for you to suppress a shiver. You heard him take a deep breath.

“i love how soft you are.” His voice was quiet, as though he was talking to himself, tender, longing. You took a shuddering breath, eyes still squeezed tightly shut.

“I- er- I was kind of worried you would, um, not like how I looked, what with the, uh, y-you know, weight, and, well, all of that.” You paused, then blurted out in a rush, “S-sometimes I wonder if you wouldn't like me better if I was, um, a s-skeleton.”

He laughed under his breath, giving your sides another gentle squeeze. “what, and give all this up? nah. i prefer your covered in flesh. i can't imagine cuddling a skeleton would be nearly as comfortable.” 

You choked on a forced chuckle, because just then his hands had slid up to your chest. One rested on the bottom of your ribcage, but the other slid up the middle of your chest, stilling for a long, long moment on the flat of your sternum. He was breathing deeply, slowly: in, pause, and out, in, pause, and out. It was as though he had been waiting to stand like this, with you, your heart pounding under his fingertips, for a long time. 

“it's so warm. like standing beside a fire. so warm…” You barely heard him, but felt his breath on your face, as though he was suddenly much closer. He sounded so tender, so vulnerable, so longing. You swallowed.

“W-what-” you swallowed again- “what is?”

“your soul.” He whispered it so softly, so carefully, you felt yourself flushing yet brighter. “so close. it's right here, i can practically feel it beating…” He sighed.

You tried to control your breathing. This felt so intimate in a way you didn't understand, and it made you so mixed up and anxious. “W-would you like to… y’know, see it? I-is that something you can do?” 

“no, no,” he whispered, again, more like he was talking to himself, and something about the slight change in his voice made you suddenly wonder if he had blushed, “not yet. i don't think either of us are ready for that yet. i suppose you wouldn't understand, but that… that's a sacred sort of thing, for us. the very culmination of your being, brought out for someone to hold… i can't really hide mine, but yours… deserves better than a moment like this.”

You didn't ask what he meant. Your brain ran a mile a minute, fumbling over itself trying to process all this information. He slowly, gradually, lifted his hand away from your sternum, and there was a long moment where he didn't touch you at all. Then one of his hands brushed the underside of your chin, making you reflexively lift your head, and your breathing hitched. Another touched the back of your neck. His breath fanned your cheek.

“eyes still closed?” His teeth brushed your cheek as he spoke, touch feather-light. The hairs stood up on the back of your neck. 

“Y-yes.” 

He hummed, almost purred, chuckling lightly. “good.”

His teeth pressed your cheek in a kiss, and a moment later his hands slid down your neck on either side, one thumb pressing at where your pulse pound-pound-pounded against your skin. Then lower, to the gentle slope where your neck met your shoulders. 

There was a moment that stretched on for eternity where nothing happened. When his breath touched your neck, you sucked in a gasp of air. The ridge of his nasal bone pressed against where the muscles were taught against your skin, then ran slowly up until it nestled just below your jaw. He breathed deeply, and you shivered. He chuckled, and his hands ran down your arms, thumbs rubbing your wrists.

“you're shaking,” he whispered, a smile in his voice. 

“I-I am well a-aware.”

“you're so timid. i don't think i've ever seen you like this.” Another breath. “it's an odd feeling.” 

“O-oh.” 

“i think it makes a nice change of pace. it's cute.” 

He pulled away slightly- then suddenly something warm and wet and glossy in texture ran from the dip of your neck up to your jaw. You startled, eyes flying open and hands rushing to his shoulders. He quickly pulled away.

“sorry, i’m sorry. too much?”

“What-” you gasped, staring at him wide-eyed, “- was that?” 

He looked apologetic, flustered, sheepish. “… i thought you might want to feel it the way humans do it.” 

“Was that a /tongue/?”

The sheepish look grew. “well. yes.” 

“How?”

“… magic.” 

“Show me.” 

“er...” 

He stared at you, apparently caught off guard by the sudden change in demeanor, but you were too caught up in a rising tide of questions to notice. He closed his eyes, breathed, then opened his jaws, and out lulled a brilliantly red tongue.

Well, as close to a tongue as a skeleton could get, you supposed. The thing looked like it was slightly transparent, glowed a faint red hue, and was extremely smooth, glossy like you had originally thought. It was long, and tapered to a rounded point, more pointed than a humans, but not sharply so- not in the slightest. You reached up to touch it, fascinated, not really thinking, and hastily snatched your hand back before you could, realizing what you were doing not an instant too late.

You stared up at him, wide-eyed and chewing your lip, afraid he would think you were strange.

“I-I'm sorry, I don't know what came over me, I should just…”

He stared back at you, sockets half closed, then suddenly grabbed your head in his hands and swooped in, kissing you. 

Nothing happened that night besides that kiss. When you had asked him why he had kissed you just then, he had shrugged, half asleep with your head on his shoulder.

“i dunno. guess something came over me, too. i just felt like i had to, or i never would.”

You hummed. He fell asleep long before you did, ribs still bare where the blanket had slid off while you two got comfortable. You watched him sleep, watched the way his ribs rose and fell despite his lack of lungs and lack of need for breathing, anyway, watched the slight, almost unnoticeable beat of the pearly white shape in his chest. This close, you could see minute imperfections in the surface of it- as though it had been drawn across several times with a dozen tiny claws that hardly really touched the surface of it at all. Suddenly, it seemed delicate, and a swell of protectiveness rose in you, making your chest tight.

You reached out and pressed a hand to the ribs just above it, and it seemed to beat slightly harder, like it was reacting to something, reaching out toward something like it needed it, like it knew something was there that it would eventually meet. Or was that your imagination?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this took longer to write than I expected. I've been dealing with my own set of demons lately, so I'm sorry for giving false hope at the end of the last chapter.
> 
> So. Uh. I don't know how to feel about this chapter. I mean, it is what it is, but I think I could've written it better. Sorry if it's awkward or crummy. ;;
> 
> Anyway, I'm taking prompts and ideas for future chapters!! Drop those in the comments if you have them! 
> 
> I love you guys so much. You're all so great and supportive and I love you. I hope you're having a good day.


	31. Someone who doesn't want to let you go

You were upset over something. Sans was sure of it. 

He didn't have proof, not at first, but he could feel it when he was near you, soft little twinges of remorse or sadness, he could see it in the way you sometimes drifted off into your own thoughts, staring blankly into space, unmoving, unseeing. He wanted to say something, to soothe your worries away- but how? He wasn't good with words, and you waved it off when Frisk, too, noticed your wandering thoughts. 

He tried his best to console you. He tried to soothe you to sleep with a gentle purr and strokes of his phalanges through your hair. He tried to draw you away from troubling thoughts with soft brushes of his hands against the back of your neck and featherlight brushes of his teeth to your jawline and just beneath your ear. He tried to remind you he was there for you by carefully taking your head between his hands- hands that could so easily crack the fragile skull between open like an egg, crack it open and watch the thoughts inside run red over perfect white snow- and staring deep into the eyes he'd grown to like so much, eyes no longer filled with brilliant red veins from tears or sleepless nights, eyes so tired but brimming with- the L-word. 

And you always smiled at him. 

So why did you seem so sad?

 

The underground had become a sort of home to you, a home you were not exactly welcome in, but a home nonetheless. It's presence was comforting, those walls looming far above your head, the breeze that smelled of damp, chilled stone, the murmur and rasp of life that wanted yours echoing in the chamber. The crunch of crushed snow filled the air as Sharp and Soft tumbled and wrestled about, their playful growls sounding like the purrs of giant cats. 

You let your gaze drift away from the twins, up, up, until you were staring at the frostbitten stalactites way, way above your head. Somewhere, deep in your chest, something twinged, the slightest of tugs. 

Somewhere, far, far above your head, someone was calling your name.

 

You were draped across the arms of a spongy chair, legs crossed over one arm, head propped against the other. Occasionally a pen scratched the piece of paper you had resting against a thick and heavy book on monster history. For a while, you seemed to have been trying to glean what you could from the patchy record-keeping, but had recently given up and started scribbling at random. You had dragged some firewood in earlier that day, eventually turning the smoldering pile of coals that usually occupied the fireplace (just enough to keep the house warm) into a hot, popping, crackling fire. Brought with it was warmth Sans hadn't known for a while, and a coziness that turned the shabby cottage into an almost charming home.

Sans was watching you through one eye, lying on his stomach on the sofa, head propped on his arms to see you better. Your expression was vague, distant, as though your thoughts were wandering. The features were slackened, skin pulled not so taut or tense, eyebrows not drawn together, bags under your eyes imprinted dark and deep. Sleepy, though not troubled. Sans preferred this look to the one he saw most often.

Soft yawned, stretching slightly before going limp again, smacking their teeth together comfortably. They and Sharp laid in a heap beside your chair, a pile of long limbs and tangled, looping tail. Soft plopped their head down on Sharp’s, sighing contentedly. Sharp was dead asleep, the slightest bit of tongue visible between slack jaws. Firelight shown on their leathery hides, softening the features and obscuring the scars. It was a very groggy kind of day in the household, gently flurries of snow pressing against the windows and muffling things in a strange, dreamlike way.

Frisk rolled out of Papyrus’ arms, the tall skeleton having falling into a doze watching Frisk mess about with a colorful cube. Frisk’s sock-clad feet padded softly against the threadbare rug, the sound tiny and muffled by the stifling quiet. You glanced up when their chin fell onto your stomach, large, dark eyes peering up at you from behind ruffled bangs. You smiled, set your things to one side, and dragged the kid up into the chair, the majority of their bulk resting on your stomach and lap. Their arms draped around your shoulders, and you breathed in deeply, then let it out slowly, almost melting into the cushions as you sank comfortably. 

“Y/N?” Frisk mumbled, words obstructed by the folds of large, baggy cotton sweater you were wearing. 

“Mmhmmm?” You hummed, eyes ever so slightly open, the barest glimmer of light reflecting off of them. The fire crackled, a log shifted, and a shower of sparks spiraled up into the chimney. 

“You're wearing one of Sans’ sweaters.”

“Mmhmmmm.” You sounded like you were almost asleep, and Sans halfway smiled, finding the soft, mumbling tone you took rather cute. (You wearing one of his signature sweaters may have helped things, too.)

“Hm.” Frisk was silent for a while, and Sans was beginning to think they'd dozed off when they plucked at the paper you'd been writing on. “Y/N?” 

“Mmhmmm?”

“What were you writing about?”

“Bucket list.” You sighed out, Sans barely able to hear the words. 

“Hm. What's a bucket list?”

“List of things you wanna do before you croak.” 

“Hmm.” 

Frisk slid the paper closer to themselves, peering at the words. You had closed your eyes now, head lolling backwards. 

“…Why is ‘get pinched by a crab on a beach’ on here?”

“Mm.” 

Frisk read another few lines, then squinted. 

“What does ‘get my v-card swiped’ mean? What’s a v-card?” 

Your eyes popped open, and you turned bright red quicker than Sans had ever seen you flush. You whisked the paper out of Frisk’s grip and folded it carefully in half, tucking it between two of the chair cushions. Your head fell back again and you draped an arm over your eyes (though little it did to hide your blazing cheeks). Your free hand patted Frisk’s hair absently. 

“Never you mind, sweet child, never you mind.” 

“Hmm.” Frisk looked for a moment like they might push for a real answer, then decided it wasn't worth it and planted their cheek on your chest. “Mmph.”

The color very slowly left your cheeks as the minutes ticked by. Once, you might have peeked out from under your arm, perhaps checking to see if Sans had heard just what was on the list of things you wanted to do before you died. Apparently, he was good at pretending, because you seemed comforted by his supposed deep slumber. The blush seemed to leave more quickly after that. 

After a few minutes, you arms went limp, your breathing turned heavier, and your eyes twitched ever so faintly behind your eyelids. When the murmur of a snore escaped your lips, Sharp gently extracted his head from beneath Soft. He tilted his head, apparently listening for something, then craned his head upwards and touched his mouth to where your fingers dangled a few inches above his head. He held like that for several seconds, totally still, then relaxed- Sans hadn't even realized he was tense- and let his head fall to the floor with a muffled thump, sneezing softly. After a pause, he rolled slightly onto his side, dragging his sibling into an embrace with fumbling, sleep stifled arms. Soft did not even stir, though from their throat came a rumbling purr. 

 

It was cold and blueish-gray outside, light tinged an odd array of colors by the fresh snow. A square of yellow fell over the ice a little to your right, dancing and glittering with tiny, minute stars every time you moved your head. The cold had slipped in through a hole in the toe of your boots and was slowly creeping up your legs. You remained where you were.

The snow crunched and hissed as you dragged a stick across its surface, not drawing anything in particular. You felt in your pocket, fingers nearly numb and having to prod hard to detect anything. Your box of cigarettes, and an old and tattered cloth that might have once been a scarf you'd found lying around the house. You pulled out the former. 

The two or three cigarettes inside rattled and rolled about the box. The box itself was beginning to look worn and yellowed, the corners beginning to chafe. You were hesitant to use these last few- what if you needed them later? You knew it was a silly thought, but it nagged you all the same. 

The snow creaked and shifted somewhere nearby. Perhaps it was just the trees groaning under the weight. 

“Y O U ‘ R E… S T I L L A L I V E.” 

You glanced up, startled by the halfway familiar, scratchy, hissing voice. A battered and worn buttercup sat a foot or two from your shoes, the glaring eye in the middle of the rumpled petals piercing you as if you had just nicked in front of it in line. The thing seemed vaguely familiar. And the way it spoke was as if it knew of you. You decided to take your chances. 

“That I am. And you are?” 

It continued to glower at you haughtily, the pupil contracting and expanding ever so slightly. “You… You don't act as if you're afraid.” 

You blinked at it slowly, studying it. “Should I be?”

It growled, leaves twisting. “Of course you should be! Are you daft?!” 

“Hey, keep your voice down. I'm not sure Sans would approve of you acting aggressive. He has a bit of a protective streak, to be honest, and that coupled with his inability to reign it in might not spell out well for you.” 

The head twisted, so that the eye now peered at you sideways- like a confused dog. It glanced at the door behind you, then into your face. “You're friends with that toothy trashbag?”

“Mayhaps.” You propped your chin in your hand, studying the curious little thing. This was the most civil conversation you'd had with any monster outside the skeleton household. “… What's your name?” 

It squinted at you for several seconds, then spat, almost begrudgingly, “Flowey. What's yours?” It threw the question at you before you could even snort at it’s name. 

“Y/N.” 

“That's a stupid name.” It snapped. 

“Said the flower named Flowey.” It growled again. You smiled despite yourself. “Y’know, I don't think I've seen anyone like you. Then again, I suppose there could be a whole colony of flower-monsters hiding somewhere that I don't know about…”

“There aren't! I'm the only one.” Flowey said it quickly, with a little bit of pride, maybe triumph, like a little kid boasting about being the only one in their class with green eyes. 

“Hm. That's cool.” 

There was a few moments of silence. The flower continued to stare at you, you continued to gaze politely back. Just when you thought that nothing more would happen,

“You're not supposed to be here, you know. You're supposed to be dead. Dead as a doornail. Dead as a dumb ol’ rock.”

You closed your eyes, musing. “Yes, well… I suppose I am meant to be. I had plenty of chances, didn't I?”

Flower cocked it's head at you, still glaring. “You're messing everything up. But I guess I’ll allow it. You're making things interesting, for once. It's gotten so boring. It's almost funny to have a twist thrown in under that dumb fish’s nose.” 

You opened one eye. It stared back at you. It's eye was primarily green, with the slightest hint of red nearest the pupil. 

“You don't seem to like anyone very much, Flowey.” 

“Well, you're an idiot for liking any of the stupid monsters down here!” 

You snickered, closing your eye again. “Perhaps. Perhaps. But it sure does make for one hell of a time.”

There was a long pause.

“You do know you're going to die, right? ‘Cause you're an idiot if you don't know that.”

“Yes. Yes, I do know, Flowey.” You sighed, a sudden sad emptiness washing over you again. 

“If you know that, then why do you look so dumpy about it?” 

“Well, that's just it. I don't want to die. I used to just accept death as the one certainty I had in life. But I don't want to die, not really. I want to stay here. Even if I don't belong, I want to be alive.”

The forest creaked and whispered, the snow murmuring amongst itself and ghosting between the branches. An icicle broke and fell a feet away, shattering and scattering amongst the powdery snow like fragments of a broken star. It was growing darker by the minute, things turning frosty indigo now. A breeze ghosted by. You hadn't realized you couldn't feel anything until the ache of numbness reached your eyelids. You blinked one eye open to find the flower a little closer now, for once not scowling. You blinked, surprised.

“You almost remind me of the first human that fell down here. But you're too stupid to be like them.” 

You opened both eyes. “The first human?”

“Yeah. They died, y’know. They stuffed their face with buttercups until they croaked. Then they tried to set the monsters free, ‘cause they hated people. It would've been great! There would've been blood and dust everywhere…” 

You blinked at the flower. This sounded more like a tale told to kids rather than a real life thing that happened. “I’m supposing they didn't succeed.” 

“No.”

“What went wrong?”

For once, it glanced down and away, perhaps sulking, maybe pouting. “They teamed up with a big fat coward. They died for nothing and now the coward has to live on thinking about that forever, just like he deserves.” 

“That's a sad story. I feel bad for the coward.”

The flower’s head whipped up, eye wide amongst the petals, indignant. “What?!”

You gazed at Flowey, eyes heavy. “I’m sure he never meant for them die. It's a sad thing, knowing someone died and wondering if there was something you could have done to prevent it. I hope he gets to be happy for the both of them by the end of the tale.” 

The flower stared at you, shocked, perhaps struck dumb. Was it your imagination, or was something shining at the bottom of its eyelids? 

“… You… You’re an idiot.”

You shrugged. “Mayhaps. Sometimes it's better to care stupidly than to be painfully apathetic.” 

A sharp wind ruffled Flowey’s petals, but it didn't even flinch. You blinked, sitting up a little straighter.

“You've gotta be cold.” The flower started to snap something back, but broke off to look confused as you tugged the cloth from your pocket. “Here, I know it's not a lot, but it should help at least a bit-“

The flower lurched away when you reached for it, but then hesitated when you knelt carefully in the snow beside it. Flowey stared at you incredulously as you draped the scarf just behind the blossom’s head, tying it off carefully under the crumpled yellow petals beneath the eye. You stood up and dusted yourself off, turning away and making your way up the porch steps. Your hand was nearly on the doorknob when,

“Wait!” 

You stopped, glanced back. Flowey stared at you, eye wide and unreadable. You raised your eyebrows.

“… Why are you being so nice to me?” 

You shrugged. “Why not?” 

By the time the door shut, the flower was gone, taking the scarf with it.

 

The door creaked as it opened and a cluster of people spilled out of the lively, rowdy bar. The sky stretched endlessly black and inky above your head, the small bit of moon you could see casting a silvery glow to a starless expanse. Street lamps glared yellow on slimy puddles of water. 

A woman, tall and slim with a clever gleam to her eyes, slapped you on the back as she passed, flashing you a smile with one tooth missing on the far left side. “We’ll be seeing you, you useless bag of human organs!” 

You gave a mock salute, grinning lazily back; the alcohol was warm in your gut, the constant chatter of the city familiar and comforting, yet somehow.

Not.

“Sure thing, you unbecoming bone container.” 

Two guys made to walk in the same direction of the tall woman, one looking sour and sulky, the other’s face full of charm and good cheer, scotch having brought a glow to his cheeks. He waved you off, pausing at the edge of the curb. 

“You comin’, Newbie?” 

You slid a glance toward the boy beside you. No- not a boy, not really. A college dropout, young, full of the naivety of unknown cruelties, with wide, hopeful eyes. He turned pink, peering into your eyes. 

“Well, I was just wondering, if, y’know- well, I'm worried. We always let you walk home alone, and I thought, what if something happened? You- you don't mind, do you? If I walked you home?”

You smiled, ruffled his hair. “Not a problem, bud. Just try to keep up, oh young one.” 

He laughed, even pinker when he emerged from under your hand. The others exchanged looks, the woman raising her eyebrows at you pointedly, but said nothing as they waved again and were off. Had they always looked so old? So tired?

“Where is it you live again?” 

The walk to your apartment was strangely empty of cars, or people, and buildings you passed had a strange, blurred look to them- vague, almost. Had that building had two doors, or just one? Was there an alleyway between these two? How many windows had lined the front of that department building, again? 

You could not recall. Everything looked fuzzy, like it was viewed through an old camera lens, yellowed and scuffed. 

Newbie balanced along the edge of the curb, arms held out a little ways as he tottered along. You chuckled, and he turned pink, promptly toppling back onto the proper sidewalk. The air was dense and humid, dragging in your lungs. 

“So, Newbie,” you started, nonchalant, “how's it feel, being the youngest one on the team?”

He blinked, tilting his head curiously. “I don't know. Should it feel different? How's it feel, not being the youngest one on the team?” 

You chuckled again. “Makes me feel old.” 

His ears turned pink. “You're not old! That's not what I meant!” 

You laughed again, and despite the empty, open atmosphere, it did not seem to go far, did not seem to echo off the tall, foreboding brick and cement bodies on either side of you. “I'm pullin’ your leg, bud, you should know this by now, I’ll never let your rest.”

He laughed. “Gotta keep me on my toes, right?” You hummed. He looked at you curiously as you walked along. The sidewalk seemed to stretch on forever, nothing but cement and stone in every direction. “Is it true, what they said in the bar? You live alone?” 

“Indeed it is.” 

“You don't even have any pets?”

“Used to have a dog. Had to smuggle him out of the city when they put up that ‘aggressive dog’ ban, though. He lives in a home for old dogs now. Occasionally, they send me pictures.” 

“Isn't that sad? Living by yourself?”

“Nah. I don't make for a very good roomie.”

He smiled, but it seemed distracted. As one, you stopped outside your apartment building, old and shabby. He was staring at you through wide, imploring eyes, eyes the color of dappled leaves on a cool fall day. 

“Is it true, what they said? You've never dated? At all?” You shook your head, somewhere in the back of your mind already prepared for the onslaught of questions about why not. “Aren't you lonely?” 

He was a little close now, closer than friends should be by social standards, so close you could see the two small freckles under his right eye. “Only if I let myself be.” 

“What- what if you didn't have to be?” 

His hand found yours, clasped it tightly. You looked down at his long, sturdy fingers wound around yours, felt a wave of unfamiliarity. He had not done this. The sky tilted, the moon just over his shoulder now, the buildings fuzzy and indistinguishable, things felt odd, distorted. You blinked at him slowly, suddenly away of your worn down boots, the hole near your toes, a pack of almost empty cigarettes in your torn and weathered jacket’s pocket, aware of your slimness, your fatigue, your aching joints. He suddenly looked a little older, a little more anxious, a little more tired. Behind him unfolded a crowd of people, shoulder to shoulder, faces cast in darkness, nothing but vague silhouettes, a large number of people you couldn't quite see very well- yet somehow you thought you knew them.

“What if you didn't have to be lonely anymore? What if you could be with us?” 

His hands tightened around yours, his voice turned desperate. 

“What if you could be with- be with me?” 

You smiled gently, finally realizing the weight on your shoulders, the bite of the anchor that dragged at your footsteps. The sky rippled, empty inky gray-blue-black darkness. You could feel Mt. Ebott, its presence looming inside you, feel the wide, dark shadow it cast over everything, inside and out. 

“I get it now.” 

His eyes turned sad, somber, hopeless, pleading. The crowd of people, lined up shoulder to shoulder, leaned closer, a cluster of Could-Have-Beens, suffocating in their proximity, though somehow still a fair distance away. 

“If I'm ever going to come to terms with this, I’m going to have to let you go.” 

He mouthed something, tears like tiny galaxies at the bottoms of his eyes. Your hand was just held in his, despite how hard he seemed to be clutching; it would be easy to slip your fingers out of his. You smiled again, your heart throbbing. 

“I just hope you can be happy without me. Goodbye, Isaac.” 

In this moment, you might have hesitated- for an infinitesimal moment, you might have paused- it was such a small moment that it might not have even existed, but you could never be sure. Then your fingers were gliding out of his warm, reassuring ones, and the world allowed you to breathe. The second skin no longer touched skin, you began to turn away; from the corner of your eye, he and the others slowly broke apart and vanished, like crumbling eddies of dust. Then, it was only you, and her.

Behind you stood library girl, a lovely sight in her soft, baggy green turtleneck. She smiled, her round little glasses lifting slightly with the movement. Her eyes were warm and doelike behind light eyelashes, and her skin was soft and unmarred when she extended a petite hand toward you. 

“Are you ready?” She asked gently, one hand grasping the folded end of her sweater. 

You smiled. 

“Yeah.” 

You put your hand in hers, and she interlocked her fingers with yours, thumb tracing the back of your hand in a comforting way, and then she sank, pulling you with her through layers of dirt and sand and stone,  
down,  
down,  
down.

 

“Sans?” 

A hand touched Sans’ face, patting first his forehead, then his cheekbone, then his temple, as though groping for him in the dark. The fingers were soft and warmly numbed with sleep as they found his cheekbone and rested there. He blinked into the dark, bemused and disoriented for a moment, then a voice mumbled through the shadows beside him, a little raspy and bumbling, somewhere between waking and sleeping.

“Sans?” 

“what is it, sweetheart?” He rumbled back, voice a low, coarse growl with the slowness of disrupted sleep, gently taking your hand in his. Sleep dragged at his eyesockets, at every tired, heavy joint, but he struggled to blink it away. Your head was raised a little, eyelids barely a sliver open, lashes soft and featherlike as you blinked once or twice. 

“Whudya wanna do firs’ when youu get t’the surface?” 

Sans blinked several times, but his mouth answered for him almost automatically. “see the stars.” 

“The stars.” You sighed the words out, then fell back onto the mattress, burying your cheek in your pillow.

You threw one arm over Sans and promptly went totally slack beside him, melting into the mess of sheets and blankets. Before he could ask why on earth you had wanted to know this in the dead of night, you had fallen asleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Freshly baked chapter, straight outta the oven ;00000
> 
> Sorry this took so long lol. I got some fucking bomb fan art like really recently and it motivated me to finally finish this chapter so,, thanks to that person, they are a Good and they appeared in my time of need and I love them 
> 
> I've been in a bit of a slump recently but writing this I think did me some good. Still taking ideas and prompts or questions, etc, so if you wanna drop anything in the comments feel freeeeeeee


	32. Authors Note: a little bit of help?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (I know, authors notes can be obnoxious, please bear with me here,,)

Hello hello!!!! Are you having a good first day of spook month?? I hope so!

I've got a small request to ask of you. If you can't help me, that's fine! Please don't feel pressured to say anything if you don't want to/ can't. On the other hand, if you are shy, don't be! I will accept any and everything with open arms! (I'm awkward myself, don't fret about that, haha)

The next rung in this story's ladder is looming ever closer, but before we reach that point, I'd like to flesh things out a little more but have run dry of ideas; my request is more a cry for help in regards to chapter ideas to be honest, ha ha,,

Want to see anything transpire between Reader and Sans? Leave a comment! Want to see Reader do something with Frisk? Leave a comment! Maybe something with Papyrus, or Sharp and Soft? Perhaps Undyne? Even Flowey? 

Any and all prompts or ideas are 100% welcome! (Yes, maybe even smut... if it happens, it'll be as tame as possible, and 100 % skippable for my sex-repulsed friends out there. I'm not 100% comfortable with it myself, don't worry, you're not alone.)

Hope you have a wonderful day, wherever you are! You guys have no idea how much I appreciate you. <3


	33. Petrichor

Today was a good day. 

Sans could tell from the moment you woke, when you blinked your eyes open to his face beside yours, smiled, hummed, and nuzzled your face against his, leaving a small peck beside his nasal bone before sitting up and stretching. (To be honest, it wasn't a bad way for him to wake up, either.)

You had thrown on a random sweater- one of a soft, gray-ish blue and white- and whisked from the room, throwing a ‘good morning’ over your shoulder as you went. You pulled Papyrus’ door open just as the inhabitants were stirring. You knelt beside the bed, brushing the top of Papyrus’ skull with a hand and giving a peck to his crown before turning to Frisk. You tickled them until they squealed and shrieked, batting your hands away halfheartedly. You smiled and tussled their hair before pushing their bangs away from their forehead and giving that a kiss, too. 

“Good morning, all. How's my favorite kiddo doing?”

Frisk giggled, still catching their breath. “What's with you?” 

You hummed, plucking up a small, clean sweatshirt and helping them into it. “Dunno. Just feelin’ good today. And how is the great and terrible Papyrus today?” 

“EVEN GREATER AND TERRIBLER THAN USUAL!” 

“Wonderful.” 

You were the first into the kitchen, and by the time an hour had passed, the house smelled wonderfully of fresh bread while you kneaded out the third loaf to go in. Sleeves rolled up to your elbows, hair pinned back with a clip, cheeks covered in flour, Sans found himself sitting just so on the sofa so as to watch. It didn't take long before you came tottering into the living room, balancing plates of steaming, freshly buttered bread. It was some of the best Sans ever had. 

You sprawled back on the rug afterward, eyes closed and expression content. You let out a gusty sigh. “Today is a good day.” 

Sans laid himself beside you, head propped in one hand, and chuckled. “i noticed.” 

You opened one eye, the colors of your iris soft and lovely behind your lashes. “I woke up for the first time in forever and actually felt as though I had slept. Normally when I wake up, I'm still tired, it's always been so frustrating… But not today.” You hummed, stretching your arms way behind your head, fingers digging into the carpet. “I wonder what was so different?”

Sans smiled, carefully tucking a strand of hair away from your face. “don't know, but i’m liking the change.”

You smiled, eye closing again. “Me too.” 

Sans hesitated, then, propping himself up carefully, leaned over and brushed his teeth to your cheek, the touch as light as he could make it. Before he could even pull away, you had returned the gesture, lips touching his cheekbone a little more firmly than he had done to you. 

He stared down at you, and you smiled, eyes bright for the first time in ages- the sadness was gone, if only for now, and he was certainly enjoying it. He pressed his cheekbone to yours, breath ruffling your hair, and felt he could have stayed there forever-

Soft thrust their head into the minimal space between you and Sans, huffing and sneezing and licking. You burst into a fit of giggling laughter, rolling away as Sans was forced to pull back. He looked up just in time to catch sight of you throwing your arms around Soft’s neck, smothering them with a nuzzle to their crown. Soft purred, clicking their teeth playfully, and bumped their forehead against yours as Sharp sat, with a small thump, beside Sans.

Sans glanced over to the green-faced twin. He seemed to side eye the skeleton, then, with a snort, threw himself down and plopped his head on Sans’ thigh.

 

Some time later- hours or minutes, Sans couldn't be sure, but enough time for Frisk and Papyrus to have started a jigsaw puzzle- you suddenly jumped to your feet, making Frisk, Papyrus, and the Orthrus glance up in surprise. You clasped your hands together, a grin creeping onto your face. 

“I've just had the dumbest idea- but there's no room in here, no way we could without breaking something- we’ll have to go out back- quick, Frisk, grab your gloves!” 

Papyrus glanced at Sans, apparently looking for an explanation. Sans shrugged. Caught up in the excitement of it all, you and Frisk were heavy in winter gear within minutes. You flung yourself out into the snow, looking back and beckoning. 

“C’mon, Orthrus!” 

Sharp and Soft launched themselves out the back door, panting excitedly and skidding through the snow. Sans and Papyrus stopped in the doorway, two brothers deciding to observe rather than take part. 

The cold crept into the house while the two observed you fuss about the patch of snow between house and trees, first instructing Frisk to stand off to one side, then turning your attention to the Orthrus. You guided them like a shepherd to their sheep, planting Soft on one side of the yard and Sharp to the other, their tail laying limply in the ground between them. You gestured Frisk over, giving some instruction Sans couldn't quite catch, and either of you took one end of the Orthrus’ tail and began swinging it through the air in an odd way, as though it were a rope going over and under an invisible person standing between the twin monsters. Eventually, they seemed to catch on, and began to swing their shared tail in the same odd, consistent way you had. 

With a grin, you jumped into the spot where the tail formed the highest arc and began to jump on the spot, carefully avoiding the tail. You were laughing, smiling, and Frisk soon joined you, the two of you jumping and spinning as though it were some kind of game. Perhaps it was, Sans realized- a game that humans knew of and took delight in. Your hair flew about your face, your face alive with a kind childish eagerness as you took Frisk’s hands in yours, still skipping and jumping as Sharp and Soft grinned and churned the snow with their claws, happy as you were happy, and for the first time in a while, Sans was reminded that you and Frisk were both human, and because of that would always in a way be closer than you and him could ever hope to be. 

“THEY… SEEM TO BE ENJOYING THEMSELVES.” Papyrus’ voice broke Sans out of his thoughts, his high, creaky voice a little quieter than usual. 

Sans nodded, watching as you tripped and slid in the snow, dragging Frisk down with you accidentally. The child laughed, scooping up some snow and pushing it into your face. Sharp and Soft jumped into the game, wrestling with you with soft, feeble slaps of their paws and coarse, playful growls. “must be a human thing.”

“YES, I THOUGHT SO, TOO. HUMANS ARE… ODD, AREN’T THEY?” 

“yeah. it’s a good kind of odd, though.” You were laughing, shielding your face with your arms as Frisk showed Sharp how to scoop handfuls of snow into your hair and down your jacket. 

“I DO LIKE THE LITTLE HUMAN. THEY REMIND ME OF WHEN I WAS A BITTY-BONES. SOMETIMES I ALMOST THINK THOSE TWO REMIND ME OF US WHEN WE WERE YOUNGER.” Papyrus laughed, sitting down in the doorway; even like that, he still had a number of inches on the his older brother. Sans was never quite sure what trick of fate let the little brother be so damn tall. 

“heh. still, nothing could beat having the great and terrible Papyrus as a brother.” Sans scraped his knuckles against the top of Papyrus’ head, making the taller skeleton snort and duck and bat the hand away. 

“NO, I SUPPOSE NOT.” There was a long silence. You had jumped to your feet and grabbed a stick and were apparently pretending it was a weapon- you and Frisk danced about now, tapping enemy swords against each other like it was the most fun you had ever had. “SANS?”

“yeah, bro?”

“WHAT DO YOU THINK… OF THE BIGGER HUMAN?”

Sans pondered the question, tapping his claws against the doorframe one by one. “dunno, bro. i know i care about them, want them to be safe. protected. like they're something precious and important. but they also feel… like home.” 

Sans was about to blush and be abashed by the words he hadn't even planned to say when Papyrus nodded solemnly. “YES, I GET WHAT YOU MEAN.” 

You had finally collapsed to your knees, gasping for breath and breathing onto your hands, shaking with laughter all the while, cheeks bright red with cold. Frisk came up and flung their arms around your neck and you bundled them into your arms, burying your face in their hair. Sharp and Soft trotted up and wound themselves around you like a bulky, leathery blanket.

 

You stepped out of the bathroom, a pair of scissors and something Sans couldn't make out- long fur, maybe?- in hand. Sans glanced up, then had to look again. 

Your hair was shorter than it had been, framing your face more than before, no longer hanging long down your back. It swung more freely as you turned your head, dancing about your neck and falling in and out of your eyes. Your eyes seemed brighter and more lovely than before when your gaze found his. 

He stood up, touched one of the shorter locks. “wow.”

You shrugged. “It may not be as healthy as it once was, but it's never been so long… I finally decided to do something about it. I've never been very good at trimming my hair, though… You don't hate it, do you?” Concern suddenly snapped in your gaze, forehead creasing with it. 

Sans shook his head, touching the crown of your head with his teeth. For a moment, he struggled with words. “i like it.” 

You smiled, eyes warm now, and Sans realized you understood perfectly well. “I'm glad. I'm about to do the same to Frisk.”

 

That night, you all settled down to watch a movie Frisk had found tucked away somewhere. The living room was cast in darkness, the drapes closed and the lights off. The atmosphere was pleasant, calm. Sans was halfway dozing by the time ten minutes had passed.

You were seated on Sans’ lap, leaning back into his bulk, and Frisk was in yours (hair now bobbed just under their chin), with your arms around them and Sans’ around both of you. Papyrus was sprawled out on the floor in front of the television, legs waving vacantly from time to time. Sharp and Soft had come shuffling up to the floor-bound skeleton and, after sniffing around him a bit, had plopped themselves down atop of his back with enormous sighs. Oddly enough, Papyrus had allowed this.

It was some thirty or so minutes into the movie when Sans felt Frisk stiffen and twist in your grip to put their face against your shoulder, away from the television. He blinked himself awake enough to squint at the screen, only to frown in confusion. Two parents were playing happily with their child, laughing and smiling. What had upset the kid?

You had noticed, as well. You gave the kid a gentle squeeze, whispering, “What’s the matter, bud?”

They were quiet, then mumbled. “I don't like watching the family parts.”

“Hm? Why not?” You frowned, seemed to understand better than Sans did. “Is it about your own family?”

Frisk balled up their fists and hid their face further, muttering so quietly Sans almost couldn't hear it, “… My family didn't… like me very much…” 

And you answered, as easily and factually as though it should have been obvious, “Well, I guess we’ll have to be your family, then.” 

Frisk began to shake and quiver and gasp, sniffling loudly. You quickly pushed them away enough to sweep the hair from their face to reveal red cheeks and watery eyes- Sans felt an uncomfortable jolt. You tutted and hushed, gently thumbing the tears away and smoothing their hair.

“Hey, hey. It's okay. I know, it's tough, shhh, it's okay to cry. Just let it all out. It's okay.” 

They buried their face in your chest, hiccuping. You wrapped your arms around them, curled up to cradle them better, pecked their crown lightly. Sharp, hearing the commotion, came shuffling over and, perhaps understanding somewhat, rubbed his cheek against Frisk’s shoulder, mumbling out a deep, comforting purr.

 

You came tiptoeing into the room some time after Sans had already settled under the blankets, having finished telling some tale of Frisk the Mighty, (Y/N) the Guardian, Papyrus the Terrible, Cerberus the Loyal, and Sans the Protector. 

You felt through the room with careful, ghosting steps, slipping under the comforter with the quiet whisper of cloth on cloth. Sans rolled to face you and you froze for a moment, one knee on the mattress, back hunched. You let out a sigh, tumbling under the blanket with less care than before. You fell onto your side beside him, a fumbling hand pushing your hair out of your face.

“I thought you were asleep.” You whispered, voice tiny in the dark.

“i wanted to hear the ending to your story.”

You chuckled quietly, cheeks brightening in the dim light. “Oh. You could hear that? I guess I can't say no to that kid, y’know?” 

“yeah, i know. me too. i liked the voices.” 

“Oh, ha ha, very fun, pick on me ‘cause I got carried away.”

“no, really.”

“If you say so.”

For a while, you were both quiet. You stared at him in the dark, pupils huge in your irises. You propped yourself up on one elbow and reached out tentatively with one hand, and Sans felt your warm, soft fingertips first brush against, then trail along his cheekbone. Your palm cupped his mandible, thumb feeling along the bottom edge of his teeth.

You smiled, eyes half closed, and Sans felt a strange flutter in his rib cage.

“Your eyes are white again.” 

Sans dodged your gaze, embarrassed, and heard you chuckle.

“It's alright. It's nice. I think it's- um- kind of cute, actually.” 

It was your turn to look away, cheeks bright again. Sans smiled.

“right back at ya.” Your cheeks turned brighter. Your hand was still on his face, he realized. He reached up to hold it in place, studying you carefully now. “… y’alright? you're touchy tonight.” 

You hummed, shrugged, rolled your head this way and that. “Oh, well. It's nothing.” He continued to stare. You squirmed, then sighed. “I just… wanted to touch you. Maybe I'm lonely. I don't know. You… confuse me, y’know that?”

Sans felt a twist in his ribcage, like someone had grabbed his soul and squeezed. “right back at ya. c’mere.” 

He took you by the shoulders gingerly, pulling you into him and curling around you, one arm under your head and the other draped over your waist. Your legs tangled with his, and both of your faces were red, but you weren't pushing him away. Taking this as a good sign, he bent his head and just barely touched his forehead to yours, closing his eyes, because it was easier without having to worry about how you were looking at him.

“… just say so if it's not okay.”

Your breath ghosted over his neck vertebrae, and one of your hands rested on the side of his ribcage.

“No, no. This is good. Just stay right here.”

“so long as you'll have me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> mmmMMMMMMMM sorry this one is so badddd sorry it took so long sorry ashdidjkslalaa
> 
> Anyway, I hope you guys are doing okay!! Sorry for the delay on this chapter. ^^' I've been meaning to write for ages and just never got around to it... Thanks for all the prompts in the mean time, I've loved each and every one of them!! Honestly all comments are such a delight I love you guys ashdifjjf
> 
> I hope you're having a good day!! If you have any ideas or questions or just want to say hi, just drop it in the comments!!


	34. Author's note (EDITTED): My decision

Hey, your local anxiety-fueled author here with yet another request!! (I'm sorry, stick with me here,,)

Just recently- like, this morning, actually- I was struck with an idea for this story that I've been thinking over ever since because, really, it has a lot of potential! It would make the story have more body and, probably, many more chapters, and it would make me write a kind of story I haven't written before! In a way, I think it would be a thrill- maybe not just for me to write, but for you to read, as well! I think you guys would like it- it'd have more characters and interactions and (gasp!) much more drama! I don't think I'd have to rewrite or retcon anything, but it might end up feeling odd because I've never written something like it before. If I did this, I may have to wing it as I went- even more than I already am, haha- because I haven't had the months and months to think it over like I have the ending I've been heading towards for ages now. 

Unfortunately, it's quite, quite different than the original idea I had for this story, and, in an odd way, I think I would always regret leaving that tale for what is essentially a different one entirely. It may hit the same beats in one or two places, but in many others I would simply have to abandon the interactions and plot points I had set up in my head, some of which I'm kind of attached to. 

I'm torn between taking the adventurous, if somewhat underdeveloped, path or sticking with what I already have the building blocks for and have a sort of author's attachment too. My request is this: 

 

If you would like to see the story proceed as it was originally planned, comment "As it was meant to be" 

If you would like to see the story go in a slightly different direction, comment "He's not letting you go"

 

(and, if you'd please, maybe a brief explanation? This isn't necessary, I understand you don't know anything about how either is meant to play out. Any little bit of reasoning or encouragement helps me with my dumb indecisive anxiety-ness, though. ^^;)

Another idea is that, whichever you guys choose, I could post an authors cliffnotes version of the other ending, so it won't feel wasted. I don't know how I feel about this idea yet, but maybe you guys would be curious?

 

Edit: 

I've decided, with much support (thank you!!), to write the "He's not letting you go" version of the story. I understand many of you think this will be the happier ending- in some ways, it might be, but I hope you don't expect sunshine by the final chapter. ^^' Sorry, if you really wanted the "As it was meant to be" end. I hope you understand.

Some of you thoughtful folk suggested I write both and just branch the story into two sort-of-sequel fics. I've thought this over, but decided not to do this one, at least for now. I feel like if I finished one, I might never get around to doing the other one, and doing both at once would be strange and awkward for me. Sorry, if you were really looking forward to this sort of thing. I hope you understand. 

I will, not immediately, but at some point, share a short synopsis version of the other ending. It may or may not have spoilers for the "He's not letting you go" end, but it's up to you when to read it. 

Thank you for all the help and support!! I hope we all enjoy where the story takes us.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you! Love you all, and I hope you're having another good day!!


	35. dates and obituaries

Sharp nibbled at your fingers, trying to figure out what you were doing. You laughed and gave him a gentle nudge away, turning another page in the book. This one was scribbled all over with colorful hearts, most of them surrounded by the strange symbols this entire book was comprised of- perhaps a language you didn't know? But then, why were the letters made up of hands and suns and squares and diamonds? 

You ran a finger under one of the little scribbled hearts, this one bright green. Maybe these were human souls, the sudden realization came to you; hadn't Sans described them as like monsters souls, but stronger, more vibrant, varied? You stared intently at the rainbow of little hearts. Was one of them…

“what've you got there?” Sans put his mandible on your shoulder, peering down at the book in your lap. “oh, that old thing.” 

You hummed. “It was the first book I grabbed before Frisk locked us in here. What do you think they're up to, anyway?” 

Sans shrugged, falling sideways on the mattress. “dunno.”

“Aren't you even a little bit curious?” You chuckled, looking back at the old, yellowed page. 

“mm.”

Frisk and Papyrus had told you and Sans that they needed to do something and in order for them to do it they needed you and Sans out of the way. By that, they meant ‘we’re going to lock you in your bedroom until further notice.’ Sharp and Soft, naturally, had accompanied you. 

You lied back beside Sans, holding the book far above your head. There was a tiny drawing of what could have been a person beside a little red heart, and on the other side of the red shape was a strange drawing you couldn't make sense of. It was the same size and shape as the person one, though it almost had a goat-ish face, and for a split second your memory flickered back to the monster in the ruins- the old, lonely woman who had desperately wanted you to stay.

You looked away. On the opposite page, off to one side, was a cluster of scribbled out drawings. Under the jagged black lines, you could just make a few out- a soul, one half colored deep blue, the other half colored teal; another, this one purple with a smaller red heart shape in the center; the last a brilliant yellow, with an odd, jagged halo of red around it, as though it glowed a different color.

“you've been looking at that page for a while.” 

“I know, I was just…”

“what?”

“Do the colors of the souls have… meanings, or something?”

Sans shifted his gaze to the book. A small part of him was impressed you'd deduced what the page was about. “yeah. green is for kindness, orange is for bravery, so on… why do you ask?”

Your eyes was flicking over the shapes quickly now. “Do you know which one Frisk is?”

“yeah. Determination.”

“Which one is that?”

“red.”

“Hmm.” You closed your eyes for several seconds. “Yeah. I can see that. …How can you tell?”

Sans’ memory called back to all the times he'd found the kids broken and mangled body, bright, glowing fragments of soul fizzling into nonexistence. “call it a hunch.” 

“Hm.” You turned your head to look at him, hair splaying out on the pillow and falling into your eyes. There was a deep curiosity in your eyes- a question. “Can you tell… which one is mine? Maybe?” 

You blushed, maybe embarrassed by the question. Sans studied your eyes for several seconds, feeling that gentle, comforting sort of warmth, seeing that soft flicker of life within. He gazed up at the book, scanning each of the souls.

He touched next to one. “maybe bravery. you're pretty courageous.”

You blinked, stared at the neon orange blob. “… Really?”

“yeah. or…” He ran his finger along, next to green, hesitated. “i don't know. you're… a bunch of things. i couldn't say without seeing it.” 

“Oh.” You seemed to take this as the subtle compliment it was and turned a faint red. “Well. Maybe we’ll find out at some point.”

“yeah.” Sans looked deeply into your eyes, wondering if he'd catch a glimpse of your colors there- and felt flustered at the incredibly intimate thought. “maybe at some point.” 

To gaze upon your partners soul- if it was not one easily seen, such as Sans’- was considered a sacred sort of act, an act only performed if you were willing to put your life in their hands. It was an act of the ultimate trust, of only the deepest love, and it was considered taboo to talk of it casually. It was, in its own way, a sort of giving over of yourself to your partner in the same way a human would consider their first act of making love. It was meant to hold weight, meaning, and yet Sans was already very sure that he would allow you to hold his own fragile, pathetic scrap of a soul in your hands at this very moment, if you so desired.

Sans let his head fall heavily on the mattress, quickly smothering his face with a pillow and letting his hands fall to his sides. He heard you shift, felt the movement of your weight, and hoped you couldn't see the glow on his cheekbones.

“You alright there?” There was a smile in your voice, a curious, amused sort of concern. 

Sans mumbled something along the lines of ‘yes, just thinking about putting myself helplessly into your hands, nothing big,’ except he didn't actually say anything like that at all because the poor guy was too embarrassed to say anything at all.

There was a tiny knock on the door. Sharp and Soft sprung up from where they'd been playing tug-o-war on a sock and rushed to the bedroom door, sniffing and huffing. You sat up and closed the book in your lap. 

Frisk opened the door, bouncing on their heels and beaming. “Okay, we're done now! Come on, Orrus!” 

They hadn't quite got the hang of saying the name yet, but Sharp and Soft understood despite. They galloped after Frisk as the kid raced down the hallway without a backwards glance. You could hear Papyrus’ excited cackle, quickly followed by a “HAVE FUN!” and the solid shutting of a door. 

You exchanged a look with Sans. Together, you stood and walked down the stairs.

You were slightly abreast of Sans, and you hopped to the floor at the bottom first. You stopped, blinked, then laughed a touched sort of laugh. Sans came up behind you and stopped in his tracks, not even breathing. 

“Well,” you chuckled, “gee, Frisk, why don't you just spell it out with neon letters?”

All the lights were either off or muffled with thin sheets of cloth, a small, comfortable sort of fire crackling in the fire place. A number of candles- where had they gotten them?- were littered all over the place: on the mantle, on the coffee table, on the end tables, three clustered together in the middle of the dining table. Speaking of, the dining table had been set at just two seats directly across from one another, food steaming on the plates. The whole place was warm and cozy, pretty in a way you hadn't expected.

You walked up to the sofa, smiling at the blankets that had been laid there in a sort of cocoon shape, then blinked. You bent slightly, picking something from the cushion up in your fingers- a flower.

Papyrus had told you about the FrostFang flowers that grew in some fields of Snowdin’s cavern, a kind of flower that grew and bloomed despite the constant chill. They were symbolic, he had explained, when exchanged between mates- meant to represent a love that would persevere and flourish through all. They were very beautiful, you realized; they were silvery sort of blue that shimmered white when the light kissed it just right, with a surprisingly delicate, five-petalled blossom. 

You turned to Sans, the flower still in your grasp. “Pretty, isn't it?”

He was still standing where you had left him, staring at the FrostFang flower as though dumbfounded. He was a little red in the face, just enough for you to be sure it wasn't a trick of the light, but his pupils were the round white you associated with… the L-word. You tilted your head, confused, and his eyes quickly moved to your face and he snapped out of his stupor.

“… yeah. pretty.” He coughed, coming up to look down at the tiny thing, so small it could fit comfortably in the palm of your hand. 

You smiled, and- thinking of what Papyrus had told you- reached up and, grabbing the zipper to his coat with your other hand, gently tucked the flower just under his chin. “There. Suits you, I think.” 

He turned redder, a hand coming up to try to hide the lower half of his face, eyes darting away, but didn't say anything- did he know that you knew what you had done and what it meant? You smiled at him, fond of him and all of his embarrassment in a way you had never felt for anyone before- not even for the boy on the surface, who had so often gazed at you so tender, perhaps imploring for a returned look- and grabbed his free hand in yours.

“C’mon. The food will get cold.” 

“uh, yeah. okay.”

 

You pushed the soup around with your spoon idly, gazing across the candlelight to where Sans was staring intently down at his own plate. His gaze fleeted up, flicked back down, then looked up again, as though just registering your stare. You smiled, cheek in one hand, and he turned a delicate shade of red. 

“… what?”

“Nothing. You look nice by candlelight. Not as scary, maybe.” 

You said the last words with a playful lilt to your voice, a slight tease. He rolled his eyes, huffing in a good natured way. He was pretty much done with his food, but you had already eaten your fill- for once. Normally you never quite got enough to eat, but tonight you'd eaten a little more freely. There was still food left on your plate, however.

“Hey, Sans.”

“hm?”

“C’mere.” You hooked one of the empty chairs with your foot, turned it to face you and dragged it closer. You patted the empty seat, beckoning with a roll of your head. 

Sans looked perplexed. “…what?”

“Just c’mere, you big oaf.” 

He rolled his eyes, but stood and shuffled over nonetheless, still looking skeptical. You twisted in your own seat, tearing a lump off what remained of your bread and dipping it carefully in the broth of your soup. You held out the soaked bread to Sans, winked. 

“All right, open wide.” 

He shot you a look that just screamed ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ You laughed, waving the bite temptingly.

“C’mon. Just one, and I'll let you do the rest by yourself. Humor me. Please?” 

You gave him your best puppy-dog eyes, batting your eyelashes. He looked away, sank into his hoodie in much the same manor as a tortoise, huffed, then opened his jaws a fraction, cheekbones borderline rosy. 

You reached forward with the soaked bread, and he leaned forward a fraction to meet you, jaws open in earnest now. His teeth grazed your fingers, and you pulled back as his jaws closed. That heavy underbite, those impressive incisors worked almost gently to chew the food- where did it go? Did he have a stomach? That, you would recall, you knew that much; you remembered his bare ribs, the pearly soul, the elegant, curving spine, those segments that fit together oh so nicely, the delicate peaks of hip bones just visible above the waistband of his sweats… No, his abdominal cavity was definitely empty. So where did it go?

You smiled. “See, that wasn't so bad.” He refused to meet your gaze. You rolled your eyes lightheartedly, teased, “Ugh, men. Here, then.” 

You pushed what was left on your plate towards him. He looked you in the eye, apparently deciding to pretend none of that had ever happened.

“but it's yours.”

“And I want you to have it.” 

He looked touched for a moment, then tore off a piece of the bread and soaked it in the broth. He held it out to you, eyes round and white and playful, perhaps smug.

“open wide.” 

 

You sank to your knees in front of the hearth, folding your legs and resting your arms on them. Sans came up behind you, his presence as warm and comforting as the flames in front of you. A flurry of sparks danced up the chimney. 

“tv?”

“No. Maybe not tonight.” Tonight, you thought, was a night for just the noise that existed inside these walls. 

“okay.”

He moved away. Sparks danced across the stones just inches from your feet as a log shifted and split. Candlelight made shadows waver on the walls, a gust of snow dusted wind rattling the windows. You closed your eyes, letting the rolls of warmth wafting off the fire soak into you. 

You heard the soft muffle of Sans’ footsteps before he sank down next to you, close enough to brush against your thigh. He stretched one arm behind you, letting a heavy quilt fall onto your shoulder and tucking it snug around you. You leaned against him, wondering if you should lift your legs into his lap like your first urge beckoned.

Sans pressed his face into your hair, gentle not to scrape you with the hard edges of the bone. You leaned into the touch, humming. 

“It was nice of those two to set this up for us.”

Sans hummed, a rumble that almost sounded like a purr. One of his hands found your side, giving the folds of flesh a light, tender squeeze. Your stomach fluttered.

“It’s… nice. All of this. I always thought it would be so cheesy, but… I've enjoyed it.” You pushed your cheek into Sans’ shoulder, realizing he'd taken off his coat, leaving him in his wooly sweater. “…I've never done anything like this. I'm glad it's with you.” 

Sans’ breath ruffled your hair. “am i your first?”

You understood the unsaid implication- your first datefriend. Your first mate, as he might have said. You flushed, embarrassed by the truth.

“… Yes. You are.” 

At the edges of your memory, you remembered the boy on the surface, but only for a moment. The flicker of his image sputtered and went out.

You touched his free hand, and he twisted it to entangle his fingers in yours. “i’m glad.”

You tilted your head, looking at him. “Why?” 

He turned red, avoided your eyes. “i don't know. it feels… better, somehow. like we’re on the same level so i won't… disappoint you, i guess.” 

You laughed. “I don't think you would, anyway.” You turned your head, pulled away from the warm, comfortable embrace just enough to look him in the eye. Your tongue had suddenly gone dry, you throat tight. “I love you, Sans.” 

The lights of his eyes swam in the darkness of his sockets, and he tucked something into a lock of hair just above your ear- a FrostFang flower. “i love you, too.” 

You kissed, teeth meeting lips, and your hand twitched up to the back of his neck. Long, comforting phalanges tangled tenderly into the hair on the back of your head. You opened your mouth slightly, breath shaky, and a tongue went out, slow, to meet yours, and for once you did not worry if you were doing things right, or whether a human would have thought you were going about it wrong. Your tipped your head back slightly, breathing in quick, and a sturdy, chalky hand found your hip. 

 

Somewhere far above your head, they had stopped searching for you.

 

“What do you mean? You can't stop! You haven't found them yet!”

A grizzled old man, runny gray eyes hidden behind heavy brows above and dark shadows below, ran his fingers through the thin hair on his temple, looking somehow older and sadder then yet before. The boy beside him looked downright chipper by comparison, if somewhat desperate and furious and- heartbroken. The officer sighed, drumming his pen against the pad of paper in his hand.

“We haven't gotten any new leads in months. I'm telling ya, son, everything points to Mt. Ebott, and we can't keep sendin’ our men up there, the things a deathtrap. We gotta just suck it up and face the music, son. We can call it an accidental tragedy all we want, but for all we know, they-”

“Don't say it.” The old man rasped, eyes still closed. 

Silence fell, heavy, over the threshold. 

The officer scratched his chin, eyes constantly on the move- unable to look either of the men in the eye. “All right, well.” He coughed. “Either of you want to put in a word for their obituary?”

The boy, brown eyes alight with a manic energy, inflated as though he was about to explode again, but his elder pulled him away by the shoulder, shaking his head. He scowled, but closed his mouth and ground his teeth, pacing. A few soft words were exchanged, the officer tipped his head, and the door was closed. The medics’ headquarters was dimly lit and somber, a smell of mildew coming from one of the crumbling ceiling tiles. The windows whispered as rain pattered gently against the glass.

“I can't believe this!” The boy stormed up and down the length of the room, fists clenching and unclenching. The old man sank into a chair.

“I know, bud. I know. But all we can do now is move on and hope they're happy, wherever they are.”

“No! We can't!” The boy retorted furiously, a vein throbbing in his neck. “We've got to find them! They wouldn't just leave like that!”

The old man looked him in the eye, gaze, though tired and damp, steadfast. “Wouldn't they?” 

“No! Of course not!” But it sounded like he was trying to prove it to himself as much as his boss. He shook his head, began more firmly, “I know they wouldn't! You guys just don't know them like I do.”

“Let's face it, bud.” The old man hid his eyes behind a hand, suddenly looking less formidable and more frail. “None of us really knew that kid.” 

Isaac bit his lip, something twisting painfully in his chest.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hmmmmMMmmmMmmmMMMM this one is awful and I'm sorry but I hope you find a way to like it anyway,, I tried to skim it for typos but idk how well I did, so forgive me if you find any errors (no, you don't have to point them out, thank you though, it just gives me anxiety when you do that)
> 
> Anyway, I'm still taking ideas if you wanna give them. I love you guys and I hope you're having a good day.


	36. Alcohol and butterflies (NSFW scene)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (ATTENTION!)
> 
> CW: sexual content
> 
> YOU CAN SKIP THE SCENE IF YOU SO DESIRE! There's nothing important there, I assure you. I totally get it if you skip it. It's been clearly labeled for your convenience. Heck, you can even skip the whole chapter if you want! Nothing really noteworthy happens in it, tbh.

“the worst thing you've ever done?” 

“Hmmm. Probably… library girl.”

Sans chuckled. “not falling down here?”

You scoffed and felt Sans’ rib cage shudder as he chuckled again. You had both stayed up late today and had just gone to bed after a few drinks. Papyrus and Frisk had gone to bed hours before, and Sharp and Soft had made themselves at home on the sofa and promptly dropped into a heavy snooze. Neither you nor Sans were really tired tonight, however, so commenced a game of 20 questions. You were half on top of Sans, running small circles on the thin shirt covering his sternum. It was a cozy night, the kind of night that felt warm and safe. Safe- yes, that was a good way to describe it.

“who is library girl?”

Her image flashed into your mind, small and broken amongst all those burning pages. “She was one of the first ones I ever lost. There was some accident at the library… a semi had crashed, gone up in flames… My boss always told me it would have been no use, but I don't think I ever really believed him.”

Sans let out a small, sympathetic noise and touched your cheek. You blinked, slowly, felt your eyelashes tangle together and then untangle.

“…She was pregnant. I think that's what got to me the most.”

“pregnant?” 

You nodded. “Expecting a baby.” You closed your eyes. “She would have been a good mom, I think.” 

There was a minute or two of respectful quiet. Sans rubbed your shoulder soothingly. You leaned into the touch. The alcohol was making the sadness smaller, maybe farther away- you had never been able to talk about Library girl to anyone before. You had always felt like a monster when you thought about what had happened, but here, now, it was a little easier to detach that thought from yourself. Here, now, it was easy to just be beside Sans.

“have you ever wanted to have kids?”

You smiled, laughing under your breath. “I've thought about it, once or twice, but never with any conviction. I always thought I'd be dooming my kids to be like me, and I wasn't sure I wanted that.”

Sans hummed. “you'd make a good parent, though.” 

You laughed again. “Oh, please. There's a difference between taking care of a kid and raising a kid.” 

“i dunno. i think you'd be good at it. you've got the instincts for it.” 

You blew a raspberry, and he laughed. “Well, then, what about you?”

“what about me?”

“Have you ever wanted to be a parent?” 

He chuckled. “no. i’m not the dad type.” You blew another raspberry. You saw him roll his eyes, the small pupils bright in the dark. “especially not with things the way they are now. …even if things were better, i’d still be a shitty parent, but the point is there.” 

You chuckled, running a finger along the outline of one of his clavicles. “I dunno. You've got those overprotective dad instincts in ya, and you've also got the capacity to be cuddly. Sounds pretty dad-ly to me.”

He snorted. “cuddly? you kiddin’?”

You bit back a grin. “Mmhmmmm. Frisk reckoned you to a teddy bear when we first started staying here, y’know. I'd say that's pretty cuddly.”

He huffed, plainly embarrassed, and you laughed. You propped yourself up and peppered his face in kisses, a swirl of butterflies and warm alcohol in your stomach reminding you how much you loved him. 

“It's okay. I think it's cute.” You teased, smirking down at what you could make out of his face- even in the dark, you could tell he was blushing profusely. The lights in his sockets were pearly white again, and it took you a moment to realize they looked a little different- rather than circular, they were an odd shape, almost like upside down hearts. 

“i’ll show you who's cute,” he grumbled, suddenly clasping his arms around your shoulders and smothering you in toothy kisses. 

You burst into a fit of stifled laughter which only got worse when he gave the same treatment to your neck. Soon you were under him, his hands beside your head, without any recollection of how it had happened. You squirmed and giggled when he found a ticklish spot on your neck, nibbling it in a very delicate way. One of his hands found your cheek, and it took you a moment to calm down and realize the onslaught had stopped. You looked up at him just in time to catch his mouth on yours.

It didn't take long for the nervous jitters of the tickling to fade into the previous warm, buzzing feeling of alcohol in your system and the relaxed comfort of knowing you trusted this monster with yourself. His hand moved from your cheek to the back of your neck, his thumb tracing along the front of your throat. It felt intimate, maybe in a way you didn't quite understand. 

You breathed, and his head moved down, the touches of his teeth and tongue different now- not ticklish, but sending your nerves buzzing in an alien but not exactly unwelcome way. You gripped his shoulders, face now hot, when he bit on a particular spot near your shoulder. Your hands moved up, fingers feeling numbly along the back of his neck vertebrae. He let out a quiet, rumbling sound from deep within his rib cage, a gentle touch of his tongue beneath your ear following the noise. 

He pulled away, stared down at you intensely. You stared back, suddenly hot and nervous and perhaps a little scared. There was some unspoken question in that stare, and you bit your lip, heart th-thumping against your ribs. Could he hear it?

You both knew what the other was thinking- what was being asked without being said.

“Sans.” You whispered, voice sounding pathetically tiny in that near pitch black room. “I've… never done… this.” 

He understood without having to ask. His expression, despite being carved into bone, was soft, tender- loving. “it doesn't have to happen.” 

You blinked, those butterflies going mad in your stomach like never before, the alcohol hot in all your veins. “J-just… Go slow with me, okay?” 

“of course. anything for you, sweetheart.” He touched your cheek gently, kissed you. “… are you sure?” 

You nodded, embarrassed, a little afraid, but knowing it was the truth. “Y-yes. I… I think I want this with you.” 

He touched your cheek with his, his breath ruffling your hair, and you could feel the weight of his knees beside your hips, the presence of his body above yours, and your legs twitched as his teeth brushed the top of your ear. You closed your eyes, your fingers gripping the back of his neck, nails scraping the back of his skull, and took a deep breath. 

 

(NSFW scene starts here)

 

Your breath fogged the cool air, making the air feel heavy, dense. Sans was breathing heavily above you, eyes trained on your face, and it made you feel self conscious in the stupidest of ways. You were panting, gasping for breath, and despite the chill you could feel sweat on the back of your neck and down your back. 

Sans’ hands were fisting the sheets above your shoulders, claws digging and tearing into the cloth. Your own hands were limply on his shoulders, palms sweaty and sticky and clammy all at once. Your spine curled, reflexively, and you bit your lip, hard, then exhaled sharply. The nerves all over your body were alight, crackling and humming with some kind of restless energy. Every time he touched you, every time the blankets brushed your sides, every time you moved, it set your skin aflame with the strangest sensation- as though all of your skin had become electrified at the lightest touch. 

His hips rocked against yours, not hard, not fast, but slow, gentle, steady, and it was enough to overwhelm you. His stare was intense, boring into your eyes, and you couldn't look back for too long without having to close your eyes. You panted, staring back at him for several seconds before squeezing your eyes shut, curling your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. His teeth touched your temple, breath warm on your skin, and you shuddered at the feeling. Your back curled, more suddenly this time, and you bit into his clavicle, suppressing the whine rising in your throat. He growled.

 

(NSFW scene end)

 

Waking the next morning was a slow process. When you finally opened your eyes, you found yourself very thoroughly tangled in Sans’ embrace, one of his arms under your head, the other clutching you close, while yours were draped around his ribcage, your legs almost braided. You leaned your forehead against his clavicle, breathing in and out slowly. 

He purred, kissing the crown of your head. The hand holding you close moved down to your hip, and you picked up your head enough to peer up at him. He was staring at you in a way that made you flustered, a smile quirked upon his mouth. 

“mornin’.” He touched his teeth to your forehead. 

“Morning.” You whispered, kissing his mandible. 

“how d’ya feel?” His fingers ran through your hair, brush the hair out of your face with a tender touch. It was soothing, comforting. You closed your eyes, mused it over. 

“Okay. I think I feel okay. …Kinda sore, though.”

He laughed, nuzzled the top of your head. “sorry.”

You chuckled, kissed the part of his clavicle closest to where you had rested your cheek. “It's fine. Kinda funny more than anything, to be honest.” 

He stared at you for a minute, some kind of look on his face that made you feel like you were important, somehow. After a while of silence, he said, “i love you.”

You tucked yourself closer to him, hugged him a little tighter. “I love you, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this chapter is so shitty and rushed and short and bad hahhahahhsjdksklsls,, sorry 
> 
> Writing scenes like this makes me a bit uncomfy so I rushed my way through it but I felt like it kind of... needed to happen right about now. Any sooner would have been too soon and any later wouldn't make sense plot-wise. So. Here we are.
> 
> Sorry if this chapter is just like... really bad. I just want to stop working on it tbhhbfhjksllks. I know it's shitty and I hate it.
> 
> Anywayyy uh I hope you guys are doing good!! Christmas is soon!!! Hanukkah is soon!!! Holidays!! Woohoo! It is time to relax and have fun with family and get STUFF!!
> 
> I love u guys and I hope you have a good day


	37. Wayward souls

Sharp and Soft wound around you like twin cats, tangling your legs in their tail. You shook your head, bemused, and gave them each a gentle pat. Soft leaned into the affectionate touch, craning their neck up after your hand as you lifted it away. Sharp jostled his twin, throwing his weight against them at the shoulder, and they fell with a squawk, a pile of flailing limbs and tail. You chuckled, tiptoeing around their mess and into the kitchen.

Sans glanced up as you put your arms around him, having to stretch up just a tad to place your chin on his shoulder. He looked amused by your attempt to put him in the place of the little spoon. “…hello.”

“Hey.” You leaned your head against his, watching as he strained the water from the pan littered with pine needles. You wrinkled your noise. “Hmm.”

“what?”

“I was just wondering… Do you think those Frost-something flowers are poisonous, at all?” 

He shrugged. “probably not. why?” 

“D’you think you could make them into tea? I wonder if they'd put you to sleep, like camomile…” 

Sans shrugged again, turning his attention to stirring the steeped water and adding sugar- just as Frisk liked it. “i don't think it’d hurt to try, but you've got to let me try it first.”

You raised an eyebrow. “What? Why?”

“in case it turns out to be poisonous.” 

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, yeah, like I'm about to let you get sick because I wanted to do some dumb science experiment. Not happening.” 

“we’ll see.”

“What are you gonna do? Tie me down and make me watch?” He rolled his eyes. You laughed, unwinding your arms from around him. “It'll be fine, I'm sure. I don't suppose we still have any of those flowers?” He shook his head. “I suspected as much. I'll just go and get some, then.” 

He looked uneasy. “i’ll go with you.”

“No, no. I'll take Sharp and Soft. They need to get out anyway, they're restless today.” 

“… alright. ask Papyrus where the flowers grow. he always seems to know.” 

“All right. Don't work too hard while I'm gone, baby.” 

You pressed a fleeting kiss on his cheek as he scoffed. You snatched a coat from Sans’ room, then nudged Papyrus’ door open. After explaining the purpose of your quest, Frisk decided they wanted to go out with you. Papyrus’ instructions were long winded and just a teeny, tiny, awful lot confusing, but you got the gist of it. 

You wound an old, threadbare scarf around your neck and tugged a knit cap down over your ears. Frisk had on a pair of thick, fuzzy gloves as they took your hand. You waved at Sans as you passed and opened the back door, a tiny flurry of snow creeping over the threshold.

“C’mon, Sharp, Soft.” 

The Orthrus gave an excited leap, galloping around you in circles as you crunched through the snow in the backyard. Sharp dived into the bushes at the tree line; Soft paused and looked over their shoulder at you, giving you a wide, toothy grin.

 

You stomped through the tough, ice-topped snow, Frisk balancing precariously on a fallen tree beside you. They hopped off the end of it, watching as Sharp and Soft dashed across the path several yards ahead of you, disappearing into the shadowy shrubbery once again.

“What do you think they're doing?” They asked, hair bouncing as they hopped over a fallen branch.

“Hm?”

“Sharp and Soft. Running around like that. What do you think they're doing?”

You shrugged. “I don't know. Maybe looking for small critters.” 

“Like what?”

“Maybe mice, voles, shrews, burrowing things that can withstand the cold… There might even have been snow hares around here, once upon a time.”

“Have been? You don't think they're here anymore?”

You shook your head, giving a sweeping gesture. “Have you seen any? Nah, with a bustling population of meat-eaters suddenly in their home, I doubt the hares would have lasted long against starving monsters.”

Frisk frowned. “That's sad. Poor rabbits.”

You looked down at them, a little surprised- but they were a child, not as numb to the tragedies of living as you were. “Not for the monsters, it wouldn't have been. They would've been happy for it when they first ended up down here, in this strange, crowded, unloved cavern.” 

“I guess.” Frisk grabbed your hand, walking a little closer. They swung your arm back and forth, thoughtful. Then, suddenly, “What's the grossest thing you've ever seen?” 

“What?” You paused, distracted. “Was it left or right at the tree with the dangling branch?”

“Left. What's the grossest thing you ever saw, while you were a medic?” 

You hummed. “I don't know. There's a lot to pick from.” They made a face, but they were smiling. “Well, there was that person who fell from a building and hit a balcony on the way down. To make it brief, they didn't, uh, make it out in one piece.”

“Ewwww!” Frisk squealed, giggling. “Were they- like- in the middle? Did all their guts fall out?”

“Well, not all of them.”

They laughed again, hopped over a rock, and kicked up a flurry of snow. There was a haze of fog overhead, and you had the feeling it would condense overnight and begin to vomit out more snow. You used to be mildly amused by snow- it was fun to threaten to do doughnuts in the ambulance with Boss shouting at the top of his lungs for you to cut that shit out- but your time down here was making you have very little positive opinion on it.

“Do paramedics save people all the time?” 

You blinked yourself back to the present. “Well, I suppose. Not, like, everyday, but…”

Frisk was quiet for a minute. “Have you ever saved anyone?”

You nodded. “Mhmm.”

“How many?”

“People? Gosh, bud, I didn't keep count.” You laughed.

“Were you good at it? Helping people, and stuff?”

You shrugged. “I'd like to think so. Why?” 

Frisk looked up at you, expression suddenly looking much more mature, as though they'd seen more than you could understand. “Sometimes I think you help people around you just by existing near them. Like you've got some kind of superpower no ones ever noticed before.” 

You blinked, eyebrows high, then smiled, confused and abashed. “Bud, I think you're giving me too much credit here…”

They shrugged, looked forward again, expression thoughtful, musing. “I guess only time will tell.” 

You didn't ask what that meant. Snow was crunching somewhere ahead of you, but at first you hardly noticed- you thought, at first, it was Sharp and Soft running about through the snow again. It was a sudden sort of realization, as a result, when you drew yourself out of your confused thoughts and actually listened to the sound- that was not Sharp nor Soft. The footsteps were too heavy, and it was only one pair of bipedal legs, not two pairs of quadrupedal legs. And there was another sound, too, one that was strange to hear but that triggered a flight or fight response in you, something much like the clattering of metal.

You inhaled sharply, grabbed Frisk’s arm, but it was too late- Undyne was already stepping through the trees, great clouds of steam rising from her visor. You and Frisk froze as though suddenly as still as the ice around you. The metal-clad monster stopped at the bend in the path. The air felt alive, pressing in one you as though trying to crush the breath out of you. The whole world seemed to have ground to a stop, wondering what would happen next. 

“Humans.” 

The snow was ground into the dirt beneath her boots as she shifted her weight slightly. One large, gloved hand came up and pushed the visor of her helmet out of her face. Her great sneering teeth and scarred face looked tired- frustrated. In her other hand appeared a cerulean spear, which she struck hard into the snow beside her boot. You kept an eye on it, on where her hand was still gripping the handle, and drew yourself up to your fullest height, squared your shoulders. A small part of you wished you had let Sans go with you. 

Before you could speak, she was continuing on in her hoarse, growling voice. “It's about time I got you out here. I didn't think it would take so damn long for you both to leave their house by yourselves, obviously I couldn't talk to you with Papyrus or” she snarled, “Sans, but could you have taken any longer to fucking get out here? Fucks sake.” 

She shook her head, dug her heel into the snow. The hair was standing up on your arms, on the back of your neck. You tried to read her expression, but it was hard- you'd learned to read Sans, Papyrus, Sharp and Soft, but this fish woman always had the look of cold murder on her face. You couldn't tell if that was accurate, and that was what made you uneasy. 

“What do you want from us?” You said, a little sharper than you meant. Her glare deepened, popping with indignation. 

“Are you daft?! Your souls, you fucking moron! I thought I'd made it blatantly clear when I tried to kill you!” She roared, a glitter of fury in her eye. “There is one thing standing between all of us and freedom- and that's YOU! You, with your pathetic run-away tactics and puny human soul and manipulation of good monsters! You have the audacity to dote around OUR underground like you've got the right to be here! I should flay you and strew your guts from here to Hotland! You are the one keeping my people from everything they've ever wanted!!” 

She snorted, growled, furiously wrenched the helmet from her head and chucked it into the snow. It clattered, crumpled on one side, rolled a few inches. Her chest was heaving as she gasped for breath- you wondered, in the back of your mind, if the cold bothered her. 

Her shoulders rose, as though she was going to explode again, then suddenly fell as she let out a long breath. She closed her eye, expression suddenly tired and frustrated again- maybe even conflicted. She was silent for a while. Frisk was gripping your jacket, halfway behind you, eyes wide- fearful. You could feel them shaking. You reached back, touched their hair, tired to comfort them, but your own heart was high in your throat. 

“Look.” 

One of Undyne’s great clawed hands came up and rubbed the scarred bridge between her eyes. She looked worn- a small part of you felt a flicker of sympathy. She looked like she'd been put through the wringer.

“I get it. Sans is- fuck, what should I call it?- attached… to you. He’s made it clear that you're not going to die on his watch, for whatever reason. And, y’know, Sans has always been kind of a weird guy to me, but I don't want to get on his bad side. He's okay. I don't care for him a lot, but I don't want to go crossing him when this might just be the only thing- besides Papyrus- I've ever seen him give a shit about. But, for fuck’s sake- did it have to be this?!”

She glared at you, as though you were to blame. Your heart was going back to its rightful place, slowly, gradually. It almost looked like she was going to spare you- because Sans cared about you. Frisk grabbed your arm, tight.

Undyne sighed again, her hand again on her spear. “Of all things to finally get him off his ass, it has to be standing between all of us… and what's out there.” She looked up, expression suddenly anguished. “It's all we've ever wanted- all I've ever wanted. Sunlight… fresh air… freedom. Freedom. To get out of this place your kind trapped us in. We are just one soul away… and he refuses us that. I've been undecided for too long.” She stared at you, long and hard. Her eye was the blazing yellow of a field of dandelions lit by a hot noon sun. “… Just this once, I’ll heed his wishes. Just this once, I'll let a human live.” 

You felt yourself deflate with relief, your knees become jelly with it. Frisk pushed their face into your side, hands clasping your coat. Undyne’s single eye shifted to them.

“One human soul is all we need. A soul is a soul… even if it comes from a child.”

Your heart stopped. 

“I've spared you.” Undyne’s face twisted into a grim grin, wrenching the spear from the ground. “In exchange, I'll take theirs!” 

She raised her arm. Frisk screamed. You tried to throw them behind you. Undyne’s arm came back, tense and poised to throw, eye alight and aim steady,

Snow crunched violently, and a snarl wrenched the air- a shadow sliced through the air, arms outstretched and jaws open wide. Undyne’s eye caught the reflection of the great black streak, widened, and she swung out her arm to deflect the attack- Sharp was caught around the middle with the body of the spear, flung sharply through the air- he smacked into a tree, a shrieking yelp abruptly cut off as he slumped to the ground. 

It all happened so fast. Your legs were suddenly flying over the snow, and you jumped at her, hit her in the face with your fist as she looked away, hit her as hard as your body would allow. The impact sent a shock up your arm, sent her reeling. Blood hit the snow- yellow and red, together. She stared at you, and when her mouth opened slightly- shocked- you saw you had broken one of her grotesque teeth. Blood ran down her chin, neon yellow, trickled from your knuckles, gleaming red. 

“Frisk, run! Go get Sans! Go, now!!” 

You didn't hear them go, all you could hear was your own blood rushing in your veins- Th-THUMP, Th-THUMP, Th-THUMP- and the echo of Sharp’s shriek. You ran to where he was lying in the snow, hands shaking, legs not wanting to work right. 

Please, please, please don't be dead…

He was lying on the snow, twitching and convulsing and whimpering and gasping and writhing- but alive. His left arm had taken the brunt of the impact, midway between shoulder and elbow- but something was wrong. It had been broken, that was obvious- above and below the hit point, the limb was held at countering angles- but there was something worse. The flesh around the broken place was turning odd, gray, flaking off even as you watched. You felt sick. You felt confused. Distressed. What were you supposed to do? 

Soft was crying softly, in the back of their throat, continually licking their twin’s face in a frantic, desperate manner. They looked at you, tears running down their cheeks from where their eyes should have been,

“Please… please… please…” 

You touched their face, throat too tight to speak, and turned to Sharp, tried to lift him. He was on the brink of unconsciousness, head lulling, yelping every time you shuffled him. You winced as though each cry hurt you physically. 

“Come on, on my back, come on, hold onto me…” 

With a bit of effort, he was on you back, like a sleeping child being given a piggyback ride. He was bulky, heavy, hurt, and at first you weren't sure you could get up, your legs didn't want to unbend. You were practically weeping, practically screaming with the effort. Soft slid beneath you, boosted you up. Your legs were shaking, but you were up. Sharp’s arms dangled limply over your shoulders, the broken one as useless as though the insides had turned to cottonfluff and jello. Your chest was heaving, all of your body quivering as though you were about to collapse.

You looked up. Undyne was standing where you had left her, staring at you as though seeing you for the first time. Something hot and angry rose in your stomach, burning your insides and filling you with an unfathomable rage. 

“If I see you… come close to any of us… ever again… I'm going to kill you with my bare hands.” You panted out, spine threatening to snap under Sharp’s weight. Legs shaking, you turned and began to follow the footprints leading the way back home. Undyne did not follow you.

 

You were sweating profusely, despite the cold sticking steadfast to your skin. Your legs felt like they were being stretched to their limit, muscles straining and tearing like tough wads of dried chewing gum. Each step was like trying to walk into an ocean’s crashing waves, struggling and pushing against you with all of Mother Nature’s might. You were trudging down the path, but your gaze was unfocused, your thoughts and consciousness somewhere in the back of your mind, the only thing keeping you moving the need to get home and Soft’s occasional licking of your hands. 

You could see the break in the trees, the house beyond. Your lungs were flat, unable to take in enough air, and you couldn't lift your feet anymore, but you could see the house, you could see the shed, and that meant Sans was near. 

Something moved, way ahead of you, and there was a bustle of hurrying footsteps, and Sans was there, only feet away, and you stopped, not sure you could go any further. 

“Sans,” you croaked, chapped lips cracking as you spoke, “please help him.”

A look of shock crossed his face, a look of anguish- then he had swept in and taken the broken monster from your back. Soft galloped after him and you, steps staggering and stumbling, followed closely after. He swerved away from the house, Sharp’s body tiny and limp as a corpse in his arms, and kicked the shed door open. 

The light inside was dim, filmy, flickering. Sans swept a number of things from the roughly cut wooden table against the far wall and laid Sharp across it. Sharp had fallen unconscious, possibly from shock, possibly an attempt to escape the pain; his head lolled to the side, mouth slightly open, muscles sagging. He looked like a doll- a strangely shaped, thin, mishandled doll. 

His broken arm had gotten worse- the place where it had been split was now more gray than black, still strangely flaky, almost powdery. When it touched the table, a number of small particles fell off, tiny, light as air.

Sans moved like a machine, gaze concentrated, intense, blank. He grabbed a coil of tough, coarse rope and moved it around and under the broken arm, up to just above where the break was worst. He raveled the ends of the rope around his fingers, gripped it tightly- and pulled sharply in opposite directions, quick, steady. The coil tightened around the arm- tightened- tightened- tightened- 

and the arm was severed. Soft screamed. 

As soon as the arm was no longer attached, it turned into a pile of pale, off-white dust, as though Sans had spilled a long line of thick, grayish flour over the tabletop. You had known, of course you had known, that monsters turned to dust when killed, but seeing it happen was somehow worse than most anything you'd seen. Your stomach turned over.

You turned away, steadied yourself against the wall as a trickle of stomach bile came up your throat. You wiped your mouth, took a deep breath, and stood up. 

There was not much left of Sharp’s arm. It stopped just off the shoulder, and that was it- a doll now incomplete. The place where it had been was oozing a sickly, greenish blood. Sans was holding a hand in front of Sharp’s open mouth, very still. After a moment, he lowered his head, pressing the side of his skull to Sharp’s chest. After several seconds, he closed his eyes, letting out a slow breath.

“he's going to be okay.” 

“Thank god.” Your voice was coarse, stuffy, like a croak. You could have sank down right there and never gotten up. “Thank god.” 

You stared at the stump for a second, then unwound the scarf from around your neck. With shaking hands, you fastened a sort of sling around it, tied it tight, something to keep anything from getting into the wound. 

Soft was staring at their sibling draped across the table, weeping silently. They reached out a hand and touched his face, a whisper you couldn't quite hear escaping their lips, then sank to the floor. 

They crawled over to you, sitting with their back planted firmly against your legs- like a dog seeking reassurance. You patted them, and only when you blinked did you realize you were crying. 

A hand touched your face. Sans wiped the tears away, a sort of sadness on his face like you had not seen before. He held your face in his hands, kissed your cheek, then tucked the hair away from your face. 

“come on. let's get him inside.” 

 

You propped Sharp’s head up with the softest pillow you could find. He looked tiny, curled up under the quilt you'd draped over him. Soft was huddled up on the sofa beside him, crammed into what little space was left, gently licking his face and neck from time to time. Frisk was sitting across the room, pale face half hidden in a pillow, eyes wide and trained on where Sharp’s arm should have been. 

Soft’s face turned to look at you as straightened. You patted their cheek, gently. “… Thank you…” They whispered the words, voice tiny, like the scratch of a leaf across concrete. You nodded, pressed your lips to their forehead, then turned away.

“I CAN’T BELIEVE UNDYNE WOULD…” 

Papyrus didn't continue. You hugged him as you passed; since he was sitting on the floor, it was easy to wind your arms around his neck and draw his head to rest on your chest. He closed his eyes, still shocked, upset. You patted his head soothingly, let him go, and continued into the kitchen. Silence had settled in the aftermath of you and Frisk’s explanation of what had happened in the woods. You didn't mind it.

Your knuckles were swollen and red, dried blood smeared down your fingers. As you were gingerly scrubbing them off, thick, sturdy arms wound your middle. You turned the water off, sank into Sans’ embrace. You felt tired. Helpless. Stupid. But most of all, numb. Sans’ warm, familiar bulk helped ease the tension that had your back aching. 

“what happened? to your hand.” 

You looked at it. Undyne’s tooth had carved a slit across your middle and first knuckles, not too deep. A glancing blow. “I hit Undyne. After she'd… you know. I don't know why. I was just so… angry. I hated her, in that moment. With every fiber of my being, I just wanted her to go away…” 

Sans squeezed you tighter. “i’m glad you're safe.” 

You shook your head. “It's like we told you. It's not me she was after. I don't know what you said, but she's… going to leave me alone.” There was a long pause. Snow was falling outside, slowly now, but it would get heavier. “I don't want Frisk leaving the house without you or Papyrus with them at all times.”

“of course.”

“I know we can't do as much with Sharp and Soft, they go where they like, but…”

“we’ll keep an eye on them.” 

“Thank you, Sans.” 

There was a long period of quiet. It was getting dark outside the windows, the blackness trying to press in through the glass, trying to creep up your legs and weigh down on your brain, drag you down… 

“i’m sorry. about… his arm. if i hadn't, it would've spread. he would've ended up Falling Down… go comatose to try and heal, but he would never wake up. it was our only choice.”

“I know, Sans.” You closed your eyes, having already thought of the strange flaking as a sort of monster gangrene. “The only thing we can do now is help him. …Thank you. For saving him.” 

Sans kissed the back of your neck, and you fell into the embrace, eyes slowly closing, legs slowly sinking. You were jarred out of your doze when Sans suddenly lifted you up, carried you bridal style out of the dimly lit kitchen. 

“come on. you need to sleep.” 

“Okay.” You looked at Frisk, still sitting in the chair they'd sat in as soon as they saw you were okay, and gestured for them. “Why don't we all sleep? Together, just for tonight.” 

There was a murmur of consent. Papyrus plucked up Frisk and together you piled into his room. The bed was a tight fit, but you welcomed the digging of Frisk’s elbow into your side, of having to lie practically on top of Sans. Their warmth made them feel real when everything else felt fake, like a dream.

You fell into that awaiting darkness almost immediately. Sans swept the hair from your face, kissed your forehead. “sleep well, sweetheart. i swear, nothing like this will happen again.” 

Frisk rolled over, grabbed fistfuls of your shirt, pressed their face into your stomach. Sans wrapped his arms around both of you, tried not to think about the pile of dust still sitting on the table in the shed, pulled you close. “i promise.” 

 

Toriel passed from the faded purple, roughly hewn stone rooms of the Ruins into a dark passage. A light glimmered at the end, growing ever brighter. There was a scuffle, then a loud thump. The old woman stopped in her tracks, clutched her watering can tighter, one white hand coming up to grab at the robes in front of her chest.

“Hello? Are you alright?” She called, hurrying now. A chamber, filled with buttercups. One watched from behind a crumbled pillar. In the middle, a human man, bruised, but alive.

“Hello? Is somebody there?” The man coughed, propped himself up, struggled to see through still-swimming vision. “Maybe you can help me, I'm looking for someone…”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :) 
> 
> This story seems like it's going to be very
> 
> very 
> 
> interesting.
> 
> What do you all think ?
> 
> Okay jokes aside wow!!! This chapter turned out long!! I hope I wrote it well, if you're confused by anything, just let me know (I can't spoil anything, tho ;) ) Here, I think, marks where the big shift in the story begins. Get ready, things are going to get very, very, interesting (at least, I hope they will >>' )
> 
> Hope you enjoyed! I'll see you all in the next chapter!
> 
> Edit: guess who did a really bad sketch of everyone's favorite Orthrus ;0 it was meeeeee lol srry  
> https://shibainuunited.tumblr.com/post/168345728911/where-there-had-once-been-a-hand-to-hold-now


	38. Wonderful mistake of nature

The following morning dawned gray and cold, quiet and still, like the thread of spiderweb, hovering in midair- waiting. You were the first to wake. The light cast everything in pale, diluted shades of their true colors. Ghostlike. Dreamlike. 

It was cold in the bedroom. Shivers ran up your legs as they met the floor, the coarse carpet as comfortable as frost-touched grass. You rubbed your arms, breathed out deeply. Fog wavered in the air, then dispersed. The house was very still around you, like some massive hibernating beast.

Frisk had been clinging desperately to your shirt in their sleep. When you managed to slip away, they fussed and whimpered, rolling over to embrace Papyrus instead. Papyrus was huddled in upon himself, but Frisk looked tiny in his arms- as though a mother lion had died and rotted away with her cub still at her belly. 

Sans had been hard not to wake. He was a light sleeper, really, and he had been holding you snugly in his arms, safe, protective. It had taken a lot of wiggling and frequently ridiculous poses were struck as you froze so as not to wake him, but some effort found you tiptoeing out of the room. 

The fire had gone out during the night, the embers reduced to dark, powdery ashes. The gray, sulfury flakes made your skin crawl.

Soft and Sharp were still on the sofa, Soft clutching their twin tightly. Sharp had curled onto his side- the one that still had the arm, thank heavens- and had his face tucked into Soft’s neck. You touched his forehead, laid the back of your fingers against his neck. He felt warm, but not feverish. You breathed out slowly, ran a hand through your hair. 

What now? Wait for him to wake to see if he would scream and scream until his throat went hoarse, then scream some more? Try not to think about the pile of what used to be his arm in the shed? Sit and wonder what you would do if it was you that broke your blasted arm down here? Wonder whether Undyne was outside right now, lurking just on the other side of the glass? Try to ignore the odd uneasiness in your stomach, the vaguest sense of ‘somethings not right’?

You stared down at Sharp and Soft, throat tightening painfully. Soft lifted their head a little bit, smacked their teeth.

Water. He would need water. And an energy boost after… all of that. 

You blinked, looked around stupidly, realizing the rest of the house existed around you as if for the first time. You wiped your hands on your pants. They were sweaty, damp. You turned and looked into the bleakness of the kitchen, stared long and hard at the sliver of trees you could see through the back window. You might as well get him some sugar water until you could figure out what else to do.

 

This place was very gray in the in-between time, those moments where the dark is creeping back and letting the light in, those strange minutes where reality seems to teeter at the edge of Everything. Cobwebs hung like ghosts in the high corners of the rooms, all of them unoccupied. Tangled in one was the silvery husk of a papery moth. In another curled the skin of some long-gone spider.

Paint was chipping off the cupboards, flaking off on your fingers. The pipes coughed and choked before water came trickling out of the mouth. You glanced out the window on the backdoor, at that strange, filmy world outside, the In-Between hovering like a phantom there, sucking in all the Realness of it all and leaving none for you. The snow was silver, gray, cloudy. Fog-like, wavering between this world and the next. Icicles hung around the window frame like the mismatched teeth of some enormous beast. You were in its stomach, looking out through the throat. The spoon clattered loudly against the sides of the glass, so loud it would draw Undyne right to you. The air quivered from it. So loud. So loud. The dregs of the sugar swirled in the bottom of the glass, pale, transparent. 

Soft lifted their head and peered over Sharp’s back as your feet carried you over to the sofa. It was hard, at first, to try and prop Sharp up in such a way that you could still maneuver the glass without slopping it everywhere, but Soft caught on and helped, their breath fanning on the back of their twins neck. At first, Sharp’s body didn't want to swallow. For one terrifying moment, at first, you thought you would drown him. Then his throat gurgled, and he swallowed, convulsively coughing. The rest, after that, went down easily. Soft licked your hand, tongue scraping over the scab draped over your knuckles. You stared at the dark red, puckered streak. For a moment it was like you had forgotten that this skin belonged to you. Everything had felt so detached from you, like you were inside another person, watching, but not participating.

You sank to the floor beside the sofa. You would stay here until someone else woke, you told yourself, in case Sharp woke and wasn’t feeling well. Soft touched their forehead to Sharp’s, then curled up in the curve of his body; bigger sibling shielding smaller, as they always had been.

 

It was sunny, and warm. Above your head, tree branches bobbed and waved in a breeze, rustling quietly amongst themselves. The air was warm and dusty with pollen, and you breathed deeply, soaking up the sunlight like a starved plant. Your cold and aching joints settled and relaxed, the muscles no longer taut with tension. You breathed in, smelling the dry summer grass as if for the first time- as if for the last time. 

“ * Hello. ”

You looked down slowly. Standing just across from you, just on the other side of a gaping hole in the earth, was a child- for a split second you thought it might have been Frisk, but it was not. Their hair was an oaky brown, not as dark, their skin a little paler, their sweater swabbed in pale greens and yellows. Their bangs shadowed their eyes, making them impossible to see. On one cheek was an old, slightly peeling bandaid. Flowers- big, fat buttercups- sprouted from their skull, bobbing in their hair.

They smiled, soft, friendly, childlike. Then they jumped.

 

And then you woke up.

 

You gave a jerky start, whipping your head up too quickly and getting a spasm in the back of your neck. You winced, then forced yourself to stop and close your eyes for a second. You took a breath, then looked up. 

Sans was kneeling beside you, eyes clouded with a gentle concern- the lights inside white yet again. One of his hands brushed your cheek, the touch carefully light, tender. “hey. you okay?”

You blinked, trying to put together the pieces of your scrambled mind. You rubbed at your eyes, breathing deeply. “Um. Yes, I’m okay. I must have dozed off, thats all. I was checking on…”

As one, you turned to look at Sharp, still asleep on the couch. His head had lulled to the edge, so that you could see the sunken cheeks and indentations in the skin where eyeless sockets lay. His mouth was slightly open, long, needle-like teeth just barely noticeable behind his lips. As you watched, his eyebrows scrunched, and the muscles around his jaw flexed as he gnashed his teeth together, tongue flicking out to unstick itself as he let out a throaty groan.

You quickly sat up, backing up several paces. Soft slithered off the sofa to sit in front of Sharp’s head, tail coiling loosely at their feet. They huffed a little, licking their twin in the face as if to encourage him to wake. It took you a second to notice you had grabbed Sans’ sleeve, and that he was, in turn, gently holding your arm- anticipation and the fear of expecting the worst impossible to distinguish from one another.

Sharp groaned again, head raising a few inches before falling back down again. He huffed, snorted, then suddenly lurched upward, single arm staggering to support his weight; in the movement there had been an unsteady jerk, as if he had gone to place another arm beneath him- an arm that was no longer there. What was left of his arm, still wrapped, twitched, but he only looked down at it for a handful of seconds without uttering a single sound before turning away.

He shifted, head swaying, and stuck out his tongue several times. He turned his face this way and that, as if disoriented, unsure where he was, until he spotted his twin. With a grumble, he slid awkwardly off the sofa to sit beside them, rubbing his face against theirs, much like an affectionate cat. Soft let out an noise somewhere between a cry and a happy chortle, reciprocating the touch. 

They sat like that for a while, siblings comforting one another through a terrible grief. You let out a long breath you hadn't realized you’d been holding, realizing when you blinked that your eyes stung and swam with tears. The time for tears was over; now began the healing, the bettering. You breathed in and out deeply, turning to press your face into Sans’ shoulder. He immediately tilted his head, resting his chin on your crown.

You opened your eyes again when Sharp and Soft began to break apart. Sharp shook his head as if to clear it, then swiveled it to peer around the room. When he apparently spotted you, an odd sound left his throat, a sort of keening growl that seemed to burst from him without him meaning for it to. Then, a more familiar set of sounds,

“… (Y/N)… human…”

His voice was rough, raspy, and seemed to hurt to use, but this did not deter him. Rising unsteadily on three legs, he ambled towards you, already working to try and find the proper balance. He trotted up unevenly, Soft coming loping slowly after, and almost literally threw himself into your lap. His head collided with your chest, nearly winding you, and for the first time you realized what an armful he was. His weight smothered you, but with Sans’ hand on your back you managed to stay upright. He folded, legs tucking into your lap, and leaned his body into you. His arm slid under yours and gripped at your shoulder blade, holding you tightly against him. His head fell forward so that his face rest on the crook between your neck and shoulder, an odd sort of purr-ish cry coming from his chest. You were startled into stillness for a moment- Sharp had never been the affectionate one- then wrapped your arms gingerly around his back, leaning your head on his.

“It’s okay,” you whispered, “we’re here. We would never leave you.”

He only nuzzled closer into your neck in response.

 

“Come on. Just two more steps.”

Sharp groaned, tossing his head side to side. He tried to sink into a laying position, then heaved himself back up when he again realized the stairs were a very uncomfortable surface on which to lie. He growled and jerked his head up, a long strand of drool flicking off his jaws. You sighed, hating the worm of guilt and regret squirming in your stomach.

“Come on. Just two more. For me?”

He huffed, shoulders awkward and stiff, canted at odd angles. You scratched at the back of your neck. 

“Okay, not for me. How about… for Sans?” He bared his teeth, his affection of the morning apparently forgotten. You picked at a patch of dry skin on your cheek. “How about… er… for Soft?” 

You gestured to his twin, sitting patiently beside you at the top of the stairs. They turned their round face toward you, the pale pinkish-gray marking on their face stark in the light and blurring in the shadows. A smile split their inky black skin, fine network of teeth fitting together perfectly inside their skull.

Sharp huffed, face dropping out of sight, then began to hobble awkwardly up the last steps. He flopped onto his stomach at the landing, single arm tucked around his face. You patted his back, and felt the growl reverberate through his skin. You chuckled despite yourself, plopping down to sit beside him as though the climb had tired you out as much as it had him.

Frisk, who had been watching the thing just a foot away with their legs dangling over the living room and arms hugging the railing, stared at Sharp’s resting form with a wide-eyed, unreadable look. As though something had just become a reality to them. Like they hadn't really realized these were creatures of flesh and blood just the same as you or them. (Well, magic, not blood, but you get the point.)

“Why are you making him climb the stairs so much if he doesn’t like it?” They asked, eyes tracked on him as Soft began to methodically lick his neck- perhaps it was meant to be a soothing gesture.

You sighed, stretching your shoulders and hearing the tendons and bones within snapping and clicking together- a machine of flesh with blood for oil. “I’m no expert on post-amputation therapy, and there’s no logical form of prosthetic lying around for him to use, so I supposed my best bet was to get him used to the loss before anything else. Then I figured the stairs would be the hardest thing to get used to, so maybe if I started there, it would only get easier afterward. Not exactly foolproof logic, but I’m doing the best I can here…”

The worm in your stomach curled and became a serpent, an eel, a lamprey, latching onto your insides with so many hooked teeth and sucking you empty from the inside. What if this wasn't your best? What if you were making a mistake? What if you just made things worse?

You raised your hand to pat him again, to reassure yourself, and realized your hand was trembling ever so slightly. You balled it into a fist, pressed it hard to the rugged carpet. Abruptly, you stood up. 

“Come on. Let's go downstairs. My head is killing me.”

You and Soft helped Sharp go uneasily down the stairs. It was an awkward job, and you jabbed your elbow into the wall by mistake several times, and by the time you got to the bottom, you wanted nothing more than a long drink of something that was strong in the alcohol department. You shook the desire away, wobbling over to the sofa on suddenly unsteady legs. Something felt… decidedly wrong. You touched the side of your head, trying to steady it. It had felt, for a second, like the blood inside was sloshing, side to side, side to side…

You doubled over, trying to collect yourself. What was the matter with you? You stared down at your hands, both jittering the slightest bit. 

Something bumped your knee, and you forced your vision to focus on Sharp and Soft as they both reclined at your feet, apparently basking in the waves of heat rolling off the now blazing fire. It was still jarring to look at Sharp and realize there was no getting back what had been lost. You lungs refused to let you inhale.

“hey,” Something touched your shoulder, “are you okay?”

You looked up into Sans’ worried face and felt a sudden wave of hysteria rise within you, drowning you and all your sane and logical thoughts in a rushing tide of helplessness. You began to cry within seconds, burying your head in your hands to hide your shame.

“I don’t know, god, I don’t know.” You sounded so childish, so pathetic, and you hated it. “I have no idea what to do. God, I’ve fucked it all, I can’t believe I messed things up so badly, all because I wanted some blasted flowers! If I had just stayed home, if we hadn't gone at all, if I had gone alone… All for some godforsaken flowers!”

Your voice began to choke and buckle under your tight throat, and you furiously shook your head, knowing how you stupid you sounded and hating it. The tears ran quickly down your face, hot and wet and salty on your lips. They dripped off your nose, pooled and smeared on your hands, making them slick. You tried to wipe them off in a rage, but it was like trying to sop up water with soaking rags- the tracks got smeared all over your cheeks, and the tears continued to fall. You sputtered out a sob and hated it, squeezing your eyes shut so you didn't have to see the swimming phantoms of Frisk and Papyrus staring at you from the kitchen doorway. Abruptly you stood and bolted to the bathroom, ignoring Sharp and Soft’s concerned cries and pitiful, guilty expressions. The door shuddered in the frame as you cracked your elbow against it.

You sank to the cold, unforgiving tile floor and curled in on yourself, burying your face in your knees. You hated how you were acting, you hated that you felt so weak, you hated that you felt so helpless and responsible, you hated, hated, hated…

 

At some point, the door cracked open and Sans came in and settled beside you. Though you weren't sure how long had passed before he appeared, it was long for you to run out of tears and instead steep yourself in self-loathing and -pity alike. His presence was certainly welcome- in fact, it helped you draw yourself out of your dazed after-cry stupor and ground yourself in reality. At some point- though you don't know when, exactly- you unwound yourself from the stiff ball you had put yourself in and let your legs stretch out in of you, the floor sending a chill into your thighs and calves. Sometime after that, after several minutes of starring up at the off-white, slightly grayed ceiling, you let yourself sag to the side and lean limply against Sans. A few seconds after you did this, he suddenly pulled away a little and sat up straighter. At first you thought he was going to leave and felt a terrible thrill of fear and almost cried out for him to stay, please, but then you realized he was only taking off his jacket. You hadn't realized you’d started shivering from real cold.

He draped the jacket around you, tugging the sides close around your chest as you slid your arms into the sleeves. It was several sizes too large on you, your fingertips just poking out the ends, with plenty of room to move and get comfortable amongst the gray fur that lined the inside. You dipped your face into the lip of the hood, inhaling slowly. It smelled of him- of old books and spilled ink, of the sour smell of long dried blood and the comforting smell of a well-worn pillow, of something warm and chalky that could only be described as ‘him’- and his warmth still clung to the sleeves and baggy folds and creases around your shoulders.

“feeling any better yet?” His hand brushed your face, and you met his gaze for the first time in what felt like hours. The lights in his dark sockets were fuzzy around the edges, a gentle, soothing white against your retinas. 

You nodded, looking away ever so slightly, still ashamed of your pathetic little outburst. 

“hey.” He cupped your cheek, rubbed the dark shadow under your eye with the blunt side of his thumb. He was studying your face with something akin to regret, something akin to love. He hated to see you hurting. “it’s okay to feel this way. y’know? it’s… part of the process.”

He sighed, closed his eyes and dipped his head down slightly, looking away with a funny look on his face- embarrassed, maybe? Sheepish? “you know i’m not the best guy with words, but… you gotta know this ain’t your fault. all right? it’s no one’s fault, ‘cept Undyne’s, of course.” For a split second, his sockets turned dark, maybe even lightless- a trick of your eyes? He shook his head. The lights were back. “point is, it’s not your fault. sure, it sucks, but we’ll… keep on. we’ll get better at this whole… family thing. 

“and i promise, nothing like that is going to happen again. …okay?”

You stared into that face you had come to love so much, his gaze intense on yours. He looked so serious, so determined, and it was almost odd, certainly not a look you saw on him often, but you thought you understood. You took a deep breath and tried to smile.

“Okay.”

His expression relaxed, the old, soft features you had grown to find so comforting and adorable returning. He smiled, that massive underbite tilting up just enough for you to notice- it was funny to think you’d once found him hard to read. He took your head in his hands, touched his nasal bone to your nose in such a gentle way. 

“i love you, (Y/N). can’t imagine this place without ya.”

You smiled, for real this time. “I love you, too. Thank you.”

 

You splashed your face with water and combed your fingers through your hair before you exited the bathroom. You still felt tired and heavy and strangely shaky, but you felt better with the old tears washed off your face. 

Frisk and Papyrus were still puttering about in the kitchen, and the living room was void of life; perhaps Sharp and Soft had disappeared into a bedroom to escape your outbursts. The guilt in your stomach turned into a beast of tooth and claw, tearing you apart from the stomach outward. 

You sank to sit on the sofa, Sans’ hoodie cocooning you in his comfort. Your thoughts were turning strangely fuzzy at the edges, and the world felt like it was tipped ever so slightly on its side- enough to disorient you. Were you ill? You cursed yourself. Of all the times to get sick…

“Here, (Y/N).” Frisk had come up to the edge of the sofa while you were thinking, face downcast and expression somber. They held out a plate to you- half a loaf of bread smeared with butter. Delicate curls of steam wound up from the fluffy white inside. “We made this especially for you. Y’know, to make you feel better.”

Your stomach was twisting oddly, making you unsure if you could eat, but you couldn't turn down such a kind gesture. “Thank you, bud. I’m sure it'll do wonders.” 

You patted their hair, taking the plate gingerly with unsteady fingers. They plucked at a loose strand on their sweater, not quite meeting your gaze. When they spoke, their voice was a quiet mumble. “I’m sorry you feel… like that, because of what happened…”

You sighed, setting the plate to one side and leaning forward to envelope them in your arms. “It’s okay. It’ll be okay. I’m sorry you had to see me like that. Things’ll get better.”

They gripped you tightly, eventually giving a tiny nod with their face pressed into your collarbone. You held them for several long moments, eyes closed and cheek smothered in their hair. They were warm and solid, tiny in your grasp. With a rush of horror that took your breath away, you realized how close you had come to losing them just the day before.

When you finally broke apart, you gave their forehead a chaste kiss. They stared up at you through those round, dark eyes you had grown to cherish. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” They whispered.

“Yes, very sure. Much better now.” You smiled, running your thumb along the soft curve of their cheek. They smiled a little, quickly turning and trotting back to the kitchen.

You picked at the bread for a few seconds before pinching off a tiny piece and putting it in your mouth. Ohhh… You closed your eyes, then quickly broke off another piece and stuffed it in your mouth. You hadn't realized you were so hungry- when was the last time you’d eaten? No wonder you felt so awful. 

Sans had been prodding at and putting more wood on the fire. By the time you were halfway through the bread Frisk had given you, he had gotten it to a reasonable blaze again and had come over to sit beside you on the old, worn down sofa. You were passing little pieces and scraps of bread back and forth when a sudden thought occurred to you.

“Soft and Sharp should get something to eat. All they've had all day is a glass of sugar water. Hey, Frisk?”

They appeared in the kitchen doorway, Papyrus’ skull poking into the doorframe several feet above their head.

“Do you know where Sharp and Soft are? They ought to be drooling over my plate by now.”

They shook their head. “No, but I can look.”

They hopped up the stairs two at a time, disappearing into Papyrus’ room for several minutes. Any moment, you expected to hear the excited clamor of the Orthrus stampeding down the stairs. Eventually, they came out of Papyrus’ room and poked their head into Sans’. 

They came down the stairs slowly, looking confused. “They’re not up there.”

You blinked, getting a terrible sinking feeling in your stomach. “What? They've got to be around here somewhere. They’re not anywhere in the kitchen?” They shook their head. “And you checked under Papyrus’ bed?” They nodded. 

“They’re not anywhere.”

You jumped to your feet, horror turning you blood cold. If they weren't in the house, then they must be… You twisted around, staring out one of the windows at the static of snow swirling on the other side of the pane. Your heart jumped to your throat. 

Sans’ hands touched your arms, and he pressed against your back as he rubbed one of your shoulders. “hey, it’s okay. they’re probably just outside, playing behind the shed... i’m sure they’re fine.”

“Oh, Sans.” You voice was high pitched with the same kind of fear you'd felt when you'd nearly cracked his skull in with a pair of scissors. “What if… what if I…”

Just then, there was a scraping sound at the back door. 

Everyone froze, staring as it shuddered in the frame. Papyrus lifted himself to his full height and ambled toward it on those impossibly long legs. He squinted at the window, then swung it open. 

Sharp and Soft tottered over the threshold, speckled with snow and decorated with fragments of broken pine needles. They both looked tired and moved stiffly, swaying on their paws, but with a jerky, determined trot they made their way up to you. 

As they got closer and closer, they lowered their heads more and more, as if ashamed, groveling, apologetic. Finally, when they were close enough to touch, they stopped and leaned their heads forward, dropping bundles of flowers at your feet.

You sank onto your knees, staring at the beautiful, frost-touched flowers without really seeing them. You began to laugh, and it swelled up inside you until it was loud in your ears. You flung out your arms and dragged Sharp and Soft into an embrace, clutching them tightly.

“Please,” you wheezed out, the laughter dying to a weak chuckle, “don’t do that again.”

They squirmed and whimpered like happy puppies, licking your cheeks and smothering you in their heavier frames. 

 

You curled up close to Sans, tangling your legs in his. Sharp and Soft took up all the free space at the foot of the bed, already snoring. 

You sighed. “Today sure was a doozy.” 

Sans hummed. You hesitated, running a finger up one of his clavicles. 

“Something’s felt… off about today. Did you feel it?”

He cracked open one socket. “what do you mean?”

“I don’t know… All day I’ve just had this creeping feeling that something was… wrong, somehow.”

“maybe you’re just stressed about Sharp and Soft.”

“I suppose that must be it.”

“how about we go for a walk tomorrow? just to get away for a while. we can head for the other side of Snowdin, closer to the Ruins.”

“You mean around where we first met?”

“heh, yeah, around there.”

“You tried to cut my hand off with a meat clever.”

“what can i say, not all of my judgements are perfect.”

“Can you imagine explaining to people how we first met? ‘Oh, yeah, I got his meat cleaver jammed in a tree trunk after he tried to strangle me, but, gosh, he was such a charmer I just had to see him again!’”

Sans snorted. “don’t forget that you elbowed me in the face.”

“Oh, yeah. That probably hurt me more than it hurt you, though.”

“you’d be surprised. monsters have magic, but sometimes, if they fight back and really mean it, humans can overpower us.”

“Huh.” You flexed your hand, felt the scab on your knuckles strain and stretch and threaten to crack. “You don’t say. I guess that explains how I managed to bust Undyne’s tooth.”

“really? you cracked one of her teeth?”

“What can I say, I was tremendously pissed off.”

You yawned. Sans chuckled, kissing you, jagged teeth gentle on tender lips. “love you.”

“Love you, too, bonehead. Sleep well.”

“sleep well, sweetheart. try to relax and forget any weird feelings.”

“All right. I’ll try.”

But even as you drifted off, some unrelenting thought somewhere in the back of your mind gave you unnerving dreams of someone in the far distance forever calling your name, despite how you didn't need to be found.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Comforting supportive Sans ftw 
> 
> Hey guys! Sorry this took so long and sorry it's kind bleh, that seasonal depression snagged me shortly after Christmas and I just couldn't get motivated.
> 
> But guess what!!!! Guess who's finally!!! Got a keyboard!!! (Hint, it's me!!!!!!) Yeah, in case you didn't know, I've been using an iPad to write my fics this whole time, and for Christmas I got one of those Bluetooth cases that has a keyboard! Writing is soooo much easier and comfortable now, expect quicker chapters! Maybe,,
> 
> Anyway, I know it's the middle of the week, and that's not exactly ideal if I want some interaction from you guys, but I hope you leave a comment if you want to! I love to read comments. Comments are a huge boost to my day any time I get one, haha.
> 
> Have a good one, guys! Love youuuu
> 
> ((Edit: in case anyone is interested, I've touched up my tumblr a little bit, including a new URL and description!
> 
> voice-of-mischief.tumblr.com ))


	39. This isn't hide and seek

When you woke, the first thing you did was sit up and lean over to the end of the bed so that you could give Sharp and Soft a good morning pat. Sharp yawned and rolled over, exposing his stomach and stretching out his legs. Soft rolled over and reclined themselves over his stomach. You smiled, feeling better than you had the past two days.

So why did you feel like something was still decidedly unsettling?

 

You sat on the back porch, watching the curls of smoke and ash sway and disperse in the air. When the flame got so close it singed your fingertips, you let the tiny scrap of paper float to the snowy ground. Then you plucked up another- this letter addressed to your father- and flicked the lighter. The paper lit in a tiny, golden blaze. 

Your eyes moved ever so slightly to the left, falling upon on the crumpled buttercup watching the flames eat away the paper as though mesmerized. He was still wearing the scarf you’d given him.

“… What are you doing?”

You smiled. “I was hoping I’d see you. Come a little closer, won’t you?”

Flowey eyed your hands warily, creeping ever so slowly forward. He jumped back when you turned and reached behind you, then looked confused as you leaned forward. You tipped the pitcher of warm, steaming water into the soil around him in a slow circle. He visibly relaxed under the stream, eyelid drooping. 

He stirred and glared at you when you pulled your hand away, pitcher empty. “What was that for?”

You shrugged. “I figured you would like a warm drink of water, being stuck out here in the snow all the time.” You stood up, dusted off your hands. “See you later, Flowey. Be safe out there.”

Flowey stared at the door as it swung shut behind you, sending a tiny shower of small icicles dropping from the overhang. 

“See you. Chara.”

 

You were making something for breakfast when Frisk came shuffling into the kitchen, still sleepy. You smiled and smoothed their hair away from their face when they got to your side. Groggy, they lifted their arms to you, expectant. You laughed, rolled your eyes, but knelt and wrapped your arms around them. Theirs latched around your neck, and, with a bit of huffing and puffing, you straightened. You propped their butt up on the counter, holding them up with one hand as the other stirred a mug of FrostFang tea (it was sweeter than you expected, with a pleasant aftertaste).

“Good morning, bud.”

“M—morning.” They yawned, head lolling to one side.

“Someone seems sleepy.”

“I had funny dreams last night.”

“Hm. Wanna talk about it?”

“It was weird. It was like, I had this puzzle, and thought I had all the pieces and I knew where they all went, all I needed to do was put it together, but suddenly I had a piece that I didn’t recognize and I didn’t know where it went, and I kept getting more and more upset about it…”

“Hmm, that does sound troubling. It’s probably just because of all the stress after everything that happened recently.”

“I guess…” They yawned again, snuggling down into the thick, wooly sweater you were wearing- one of Sans’ that you particularly liked.

Sharp and Soft came stumbling into the kitchen sometime later, sniffing hopefully. You sprinkled some sugar atop two bowls of oatmeal before confronting the trouble of lowering them to the floor without dropping Frisk. The Orthrus was happy with the food, digging in eagerly, swapping bowls occasionally. 

You eventually settled, standing with Frisk propped on the counter, humming a soothing tune as they dozed against your shoulder. For such a strong, mature little 11 year-old, they sure could be cuddly. You played with a lock of hair that was sticking up on the back of their head, curling and uncurling it around your fingers. They let out a grumbly hum, burying their face in the excessive folds of sweater around your collar, and you smiled.

You jumped when something brushed your waist, then breathed out slowly when Sans’ arms raveled around your stomach and his front pressed flush against your back. You turned your head, giving him a kiss at the edge of his teeth when he leaned his chin on your unoccupied shoulder. 

“Good morning.” You smiled, rubbing your cheek against his. You felt his grin, fell the thrumming hum in his ribcage that usually meant he was content. 

He touched your neck with his tongue- a habit he'd taken up as a replacement for kissing you there when he'd once nicked you. “mornin’, sweetheart. feeling better today, huh?”

You nodded slightly, remembering the terrible looming fear of the day before; you glanced down to see Sharp and Soft gently jostling each other with their shoulders in a form of careful play. Sharp was adjusting well. “Definitely. What about you?”

“what about me?”

“I know you were tense yesterday, you don’t have to pretend. It was bad for all of us. It’s okay to admit that stuff gets to you sometimes.”

He didn't reply, just pushed his nasal bone into your hair. You leaned back against him, now practically held up by his embrace. Frisk hadn't stirred in the slightest, and now you caught the occasional soft snore against your skin. You nudged Sans slightly with your elbow, arms beginning to ache.

“C’mon, lets move this to the couch.”

“well, if you’re into that.” He purred, a playful lilt in his voice. You rolled your eyes, gently kicking his shin with your heel.

“Watch yourself, bucko, we’ve got children present. Let’s keep it PG.”

He snorted, though he relented and allowed you all to shuffle awkwardly over to the sofa; it was a little tricky with his arms still around you but you managed to get there without tripping or kicking one another too badly. You reclined against him, feeling warm and full up inside- content. In that moment, you forgot about the uneasy feeling chewing at your stomach.

“So. Still wanna go for a walk today?

“sure. towards the Ruins?” You nodded. He nuzzled the back of your neck, breath warm against your skin. You twisted in his grasp to face him. He kissed you. You kissed him back.

“I love you.”

 

“Papyrus, Sans and I are going for a walk. We’ll be back in a little while.”

“ALRIGHT, HUMAN. PLEASE, BE SAFE, FOR BOTH YOUR SAKE’S.” 

You took Papyrus’ long, narrow skull in your hands and pressed a kiss to his brow, giving the best reassuring smile you knew how to give. He had been quieter since Sharp’s incident, more fretful. The sooner you proved things could be normal again, the better you would feel. You watched Sharp and Soft scamper towards you from the living room, stomach squeezing oddly at Sharp’s awkward, jolting trot, and tried to ignore the question that lingered like fog in your mind.

{ Could things ever be normal after such a thing as this? }

“we’ll be fine, bro. ready, sweetheart?

Sans led the way onto the back porch, pulling you closer and using his free hand to draw the zippers of his coat closer around your neck. He couldn’t quite seem to look you in the eyes as he ushered you out into the yard, Sharp and Soft tumbling after you. 

You nodded, breath condensing on the gray fur lining the black hoodie. You adjusted your fingers more snugly in his, his chalky bone warm in the bitter chill outside.

Sans looked at you, expression one you weren’t familiar with- one you couldn’t read- but the lights in his sockets were round and white and threatening to spill. He pressed kisses to your cheeks suddenly, cheekbones warm against your skin, and just suddenly pulled away. You blinked several times, then lifted an eyebrow at him, cheeks warm, and squeezed his hand.

“Sans?”

“… you ready?”

You sighed, giving in, and nodded. “Yeah. Sure. I love you, idiot.” 

He smiled, apparently feeling better now that the subject had been dropped. “love you, too, sweetheart.”

“Yeah, yeah. We’ll see you later, Sharp, Soft. Don't look at me like that. We’ll be fine. You guys be safe out in the woods, okay?” You knelt on your heels, planting a kiss on each of the Orthrus’ foreheads. They let out grumbles, but bumped you gently with their heads before turning and ambling off into the trees at the edge of the clearing. 

You straightened. Sans squeezed your hand gently, smiling down at you fondly. 

“alright. close your eyes.”

Used to this by now, you rolled your eyes, but let your eyelids fall. You held onto Sans’ hand tight as the world lurched around you.

 

“This place sure is a strange kind of beautiful, isn’t it?”

“hm?”

You waved a hand at the rolling plains far below, at the craggy snow-spiked cliffs in the distance, at the glittering stalactites way above your head. Everything glowed blueish silver, eerie, serene. The light seemed to come from the snow itself.

“I don’t know how to describe. The light, the atmosphere, that weird feeling i get every time i look up and see the mountain’s underside instead of the sky… It’s beautiful in an odd way. Like it shouldn’t exist, some sort of tangible dream… Otherworldly, maybe.”

You stared into the blue and indigo shadows stretching away beneath the looming pines, thoughts drifting. When you blinked yourself back to the here and now, you looked up to see if Sans was even listening- only to find him staring you, smiling fondly, almost dreamily. You felt the blood creep up your neck, suddenly defensive- flustered.

“What? What’s with that look?”

He shook his head, looking away. “i like to hear you talk that way. that isn't a crime, is it?”

“Well… no. I guess it isn’t, but you’re on thin ice here, sappy.” You huffed, ears hot. He laughed, gently swinging your connected hands back and forth… back and forth…

You had just meandered over a series of hills, on some of which were Papyrus’ puzzles- the majority of them still solved from when you and Frisk had passed through here. You remembered those times with a strange jolt- remembered sleeping in tiny cracks in the cavern’s walls, remembered sucking on sticky, stale Monster Candy to take the worst off the biting hunger, remembered hardly living for fear that anything would stop your delicate breaths with the softest of pushes. So much had happened since then. It all felt so faraway, like it had happened to another person in another life. You looked up at the skeleton walking leisurely along beside you, watched his gaze follow a small moth as it fluttered about. So much had changed since then, you thought, unable to help smiling and walking closer to lean against him.

You started into a wide path through the long, thin pines. Their needles shone and sparkled like thin shards of emerald, the light winking on tiny frost crystals dusted on their surfaces. The snow was piled in drifts around their trunks, in some places marked and gouged where something had dug ravenously for something.

“Do you think they know?” You asked suddenly, staring at a set of bird-like footprints scattered across the path.

Sans gave a small start, sockets having been drooping. “what? who knows what?”

You waved a hand vaguely, quickly tucking it back in your pocket when the cold rushed to it. “You know, the others. The monsters of Snowdin Town. I remember the little village we passed through, those cottages and tumbledown shops. I think we even passed right by a family of rabbit-like monsters, when you took us to your house for the first time. That was stupid dangerous, by the way.”

Sans nodded slightly. “i think they know something’s up. that we’ve- Papyrus and i- have got something in our house. the good thing is that they respect the rule of finders-keepers; they won’t try anything so long as we keep close together. ‘sides, your scent’s been diluted.”

You raised an eyebrow. “My scent? As in how I smell?” He nodded. “Thats weird.”

He shrugged. “humans have got a real distinctive smell. each of ‘em smells a little different, but they’ve got the same… base. since you’ve spent so long with monsters, you’ve accumulated more monster smell while your human smell has died off a bit.”

“Huh.” You mulled this over in your head; it made sense, that monsters, looking to hunt humans, would have a keen sense for any trace of them. “So… what do I smell like?”

Sans seemed to ponder it for a moment. “kinda musky, like monsters, but with the warm smell all humans have, kinda like smoke, kinda like… paper and books.”

You hummed. “So I’ve picked up some of your smell, then.”

He turned red and didn't speak for a while. 

You walked on for a while, seeing the wall of the cavern looming up ahead. You weren’t sure you wanted to go all the to the door. You remembered the kind old woman of the Ruins, remembered the strange pie. Remembered the collection of children’s things that sat in the vacant room, collecting dust, remembered her outraged, desperate cries and screams as you had tried to get away without looking back- for how could you ever tell her you wouldn’t replace the ghosts haunting her memories, whoever they were?

You swung your arm back and forth, pointing with your free hand. “Oh, hey, I remember this thing. This… weird gate bridge thing.”

Sans chuckled. “Papyrus made it. he thought it would stop humans from crossing.”

You snorted. “Well, let’s just agree he wasn’t very experienced with humans at the time. So, if this is here, that must mean…” You slowed, twisting to look around. “Ah! There! The notch in that tree! That’s where I threw your cleaver.”

“i remember. i’ve got that same cleaver hanging up in the shed.”

“Ahh, sweet memories.” You did a fake swoon, and he chuckled, his breath condensing thickly in the air. You blinked, having a sudden thought. “Hey, aren’t you cold? You should really take your coat back, I’ve got a sweater on, I should be fine…”

“nah, keep it. it suits you better.” He winked. “besides, the wind goes right through me.”

You snorted, making a face, and shoved his shoulder. “Ughhh! Sans, that was… was…” 

Your voice trailed off; in the corner of your eye, Sans was grinning. “what? a rib-tickler? i swear it’s true, i can’t tell a fib-ula-”

“Sans, wait…” You stopped and held up a hand to cover Sans’ mouth, staring into the distance- listening. He froze, raising a brow down at you. “…Do you hear that?”

You both froze, holding your breath, straining your ears. You heart jumped- barely audible at first, then gaining in volume, you’d caught it: the grinding rumble of stone on stone, like an ancient door being forced opened.

Your hand slipped out of Sans’ as you crept forward, listening intently. You put your hand on the trunk of a tree at the edge of a bend in the path, seeing the immense dark gray stone of the cavern wall through the leaves, and leaned forward.

“(Y/N), wait-”

You ignored Sans, looking around the tree. The soft, wooly threads of fur of his coat tickled your cheeks and made you blink, a breeze ruffling your hair and picking up soft flakes of snow. Just ahead was the cavern’s edge, the daunting gray-ish purple door to the Ruins, and the infinite darkness beyond- the Ruin’s door was open.

You stepped away from the tree and further into the open, not even breathing. There, in the gap of the partially opened door was a person- a human. They were of average height, a little on the slim side, donning an old, scuffed bomber jacket and a pair of hiking boots; they were worse for wear, with something dark staining one of their pant legs, but most certainly alive, and most certainly human.

The door shut solidly, swirling clouds of dust jarred in it’s wake. The person rubbed their arms with shivering hands, looked up to investigate the clearing, and in a moment where you felt this couldn't, shouldn't be real, as it was all impossible, all so unfair, his eyes met yours.

“Isaac?”

The most unfathomable relief and joy filled those eyes, eyes the color of falling leaves, and when he blinked fat, pearly tears rain down his cheeks. Your name left his lips and he leaped forward and clasped you in his arms, so secure and tight, like letting go would bring him the most excruciating pain. You could hear the happy sob in his throat as you stood, unable to reciprocate at first.

“Oh, (Y/N)! I thought I’d never see you again!” He squeezed your shoulders tighter, laughing deliriously into your shoulder.

“Isaac, I… I can’t believe…” You slowly raised your arms, gingerly touching his back with a tremor in your hands, tentatively, still stuck in that shocked daze. 

Suddenly he was wrenched away and a terrible growl filled the air. Sans glowered horribly up at fearful boy, his hand tight on his collar, so close to his throat. The snarl came from him, a hair-raising sound that shocked you. 

“Sans!” You quickly grabbed his sleeve, pulled at his arm. “Sans, let him go, he’s okay!”

Sans looked down at you, expression immediately softening- still suspicious of the human in his grip, but willing to believe you. He lowered Isaac to the snow slowly. The second he was free, Isaac darted backwards from Sans, grabbing your arm and dragging you away from the skeleton with a look of protective terror on his face.

“(Y/N), we have to get away from here, its not safe, there’s all these- all these things-”

“Wait, Isaac. You don't understand, we can’t just run off, it’s safer here.”

He stumbled, tore his gaze away from Sans to look at you, confusion written all over his face. “What? No, listen, you don’t understand, that thing-”

“That thing’s name,” you said firmly, “is Sans.”

He stopped, looking back and forth between you and Sans, not comprehending what was being said. “… What?”

You slipped your arm from his grip, rubbing your temple and attempting to think- so much was happening, and it felt so wrong, so wrong to see Isaac here, he had his whole life ahead of him, and yet he was here, here, with you, you, a dead man walking. 

“God, kid, what are you-? We can’t talk about this here.” The realization was like cold water being thrown in your face. You turned to look at Sans. “I think a shortcut would be best right now.”

He nodded, and his certainty gave you confidence- you weren’t alone here, not all the choices and decisions to be made depended on you. “the shed.”

You nodded, head still spinning. “Yeah, best not to jump into the house without explaining anything first.”

Isaac looked back and forth between you and Sans, a desperate need to understand on his face. “What are you talking about? What’s going on?”

“Isaac.” You turned to him as Sans stepped up beside you. You grabbed the skeleton’s hand in yours, the bone warm against your skin. “I’m gonna need you to trust me for a second.”

He stared hard into your eyes, a lost, confused child. “Of course,” he whispered.

“Good.” You smiled the best you could. “Because this is gonna feel weird.”

Sans grabbed his wrist, you saw him flinch away, you blinked, and in the next instant the world disappeared beneath you.

 

You opened your eyes in the shed, the light inside dim. You pulled the chain dangling just above your head, and the room was illuminated in a cold, off-white light. Isaac was pulling himself to his feet by the wall several feet away, looking disoriented and queasy. Sans was leaning against the wall closer to you, sockets closed and sweat shining on his skull. You walked over, putting a hand on his arm.

“Hey,” you whispered, too aware of the presence of another in the room to speak louder, “you all right?”

He nodded, though he looked strained. “yeah. taking two at once is tough ‘s all.”

You patted his sleeve. “Sorry.”

“didn’t have much choice, did we?”

You took a deep breath, trying to calm yourself, and grabbed his hand briefly. Just then, there was a retch from behind you.

“What… just happened? Where are we?” Isaac was pale, a small splatter of sick near his shoes. He was eyeing the wall covered in hanging tools and the now cloth-covered table uneasily, taking a small step away from them.

You sighed deeply, walking over and putting a hand on his shoulder. He jumped, but immediately calmed when he looked over to see you. He looked different, you realized: a little older, with stress lines under his eyes and stubble on his chin, maybe more mature. You could still see the smiling cheeks and bright eyes of the eager boy you’d trained, though it was hard, with his expression so tense, with him standing in this room. You shifted so you didn't have to see the table. Where to start?

“Isaac, this is Sans.” You gestured to where Sans was lurking, propped up against the wall near the door. Sans tipped his head, so slightly you almost didn't notice it. Isaac eyed him like a bird eyeing a hungry cat. “Sans, this is Isaac- er, Newbie. I’ve told you about him.”

Sans nodded. Isaac looked bewildered.

“This is gonna take a lot of explaining.” You sighed.

 

“So… he found you, in the woods, and brought you… here? And you've been staying here ever since?”

You shrugged one shoulder. “Well, not here, specifically, but you get the point. He's been a generous host, I’ve gotta say.”

“Generous host?” Isaac made a slight face. “I thought you said you were scared to stay at first.”

You nodded, laughing under your breath. “Oh, I was. I tried to stay up all night to make sure we didn't get eaten. Eventually, though, I settled down, hung out with the guy a few times, and realized he meant me as much harm as I meant him. After that, we got along swimmingly.”

You turned your head to smile over at Sans, who was looking bemused. Isaac was slowly understanding that Sans wasn’t going to swallow him whole, but seemed confused by how you were acting about him. As if he just wasn't getting it. 

“That’s the gist of my tale, anyway. We’ve had a few run-ins with other monsters, most of them including one named Undyne. She's the one you've got to worry about. She wants a human soul, and she doesn’t care who has to pay for it.” You didn’t mention that you had immunity from her by favor of Sans.

“She wants a… what?”

“A human soul. It’s hard to explain, but, yes, souls are, in fact, a thing that exist, human souls are incredibly powerful compared to monsters’, and they need seven to break the barrier. They've currently got six.”

“… Break the what?”

“Think of it as a giant, impenetrable wall keeping all of these guys trapped inside the mountain. That’s what I do.”

“This is all so hard to comprehend.”

“Just roll with it. Makes life easier.”

Isaac shook his head, a hint of awe in his voice, “(Y/N), you are one amazing human being. Anyone else would be crazy by now.”

You laughed. “Maybe I am. Maybe I’ve always been crazy and that's why I fit in so well here.” 

He came closer, close enough to touch you, and his eyes were large and glossy as he timidly reached up a hand and touched your cheek with his fingertips. His eyes roamed over your face, worry flooding those gateways to his soul. 

“Gosh, you look so awful, how have you been living?”

You turned your head very slightly away, and he retracted his hand and backed away half a step. “Surviving, more like.”

You stared at Isaac, taking in his rumpled hair and scraped cheeks, the small nick on his chin, the shadow of a bruise on one of his wrists. You looked again at the scuffed, dark brown leather of his coat, the sturdy straps of a bag on his shoulders, the expertly tied laces of his hiking boots. There was even a roll of rope clipped to the side of bag. He almost looked… prepared. Too prepared.

You frowned, an odd sinking feeling in your stomach. “Isaac, what are you doing here? This place is a death trap, how did you end up here?”

He looked back at you, eyes somber and intense. “I was looking for you.”

You had to close your eyes, as though his words physically hurt you. You breathed in deeply, let it out slowly, and opened them again to look at him- how could you ever tell him? How could you ever tell him he hadn’t needed to come find you?

“(Y/N), what are /you/ doing here?” He was looking at you so pitifully, eyes pleading for answers, asking why, why had you hurt him like this? “No trace of you anywhere, no note, not even a phone call… The dogs tracked your scent to the base of the mountain, and there was no evidence you’d even planned on coming back. You know the mountain is dangerous, you know people are prohibited from climbing it without a license, you’ve heard all those stories. Why did you do it? Why are you here?”

All you could do was stare back at him, cold and empty and sorry. 

He kept his eyes locked with yours for several seconds before having to turn away to hide the glittering tears beginning to collect in the corners of his eyes. The air was dense, palpable with tension; the unsaid question hung in the air. You turned your head away, and looked up when you realized Sans was looking at you- looking at you with an unreadable expression on his face, questioning, sad, somber. You were trapped like that for a moment, caught in his gaze, like a deer blinded by headlights.

Then you were jarred back to reality by the sound of the door scraping open. You looked up in time to see Sharp and Soft hesitate for a moment on the threshold, then come barreling in. You heard Isaac suck in a sharp breath and back up against the wall. Sharp and Soft leaped, arms extended, and crushed themselves against you, panting excitedly. You fell to your knees, and heard Isaac shout your name.

You laughed as you got a face full of Soft’s slobber, their mouth wide and grinning like an excited dog. You opened your arms for them and they ducked into them, rubbing their faces against the sides of your neck affectionately. 

“Yes, yes, hello, hello, I’m back, safe and sound. Settle down, you two, there’s nothing to get so riled up about. I was with Sans, it's not like anything could have happened.” You chuckled to them, bending down to allow each of them to nudge your cheeks- they started doing it after seeing Frisk kiss you and Papyrus so often, which you found positively adorable. 

You straightened up and they backed away, still buzzing with excitement. You turned to face Isaac, who was still up against the wall looking totally befuddled, and placed a firm hand on Soft’s shoulder. Isaac spoke before you could, drawing the Orthrus’ attention sharply,

“What… are those?”

“This,” you said, tone cautionary, “is Soft, and that guy there is Sharp. Soft, Sharp, this Isaac. He is our friend, and we ought to treat him as such. Okay?”

After a moment, you let them go slowly, watching them carefully. They both rose to their hind feet as one, breathing heavier now, tracked on Isaac. They stepped closer to him on their thin, wiry legs, legs shaped a little too animal-like to be human, lifted their long, clawed hands and flexed them slowly. Their gaunt chests shrank and expanded with each breath, their jaws slightly open- gray gums and far too many teeth visible just inside. Eyeless faces loomed close to Isaac’s, their sloping stances leaving them just slightly taller than him, and you could tell he was holding his breath, shaking in every limb as the inky black monsters crept ever closer.

They breathed into his face, inhaling his scent, and rasped deep in their throats, “Human… human. Isaac……”

Soft sniffed him again, pulled away slightly, and cocked their head to the side. “Human. Friend.”

They lifted their leathery black hand,- Isaac flinched- patted him twice on the head, and dropped back to the floor. Sharp stayed where he was a moment, staring menacingly into Isaac’s terrified face; he flexed his one hand slowly, curling and uncurling the long fingers. With a snort that ruffled Isaac’s hair, he, too, turned away. 

As the Orthrus moved away, you came up and gave Isaac a slap on the shoulder. He deflated, stark white. You laughed, patting his back.

“Don't mind Sharp, he’s always like that. But, hey! Soft seems to like you! You’ll win over Big’n’Scary eventually, he's a big sucker deep down.”

He stared at you through wide eyes, attempting to catch his breath. “I thought it was going to kill me.”

You frowned, then patted his shoulder again. “Aw, come on, lighten up. Just because something looks scary doesn’t mean you need to be scared. Some of the scariest people I’ve ever met have been the most beautiful, you know.”

He shook his head, as if you didn't understand, but didn't argue. You sighed silently, patted his back once more, and headed for the shed door.

“When you're ready, I think you should meet the others.” You glanced over at Sans, who nodded in silent agreement. He hadn't spoken much this entire time, but that was no surprise to you, you knew he was trying to figure out what to make of your old friend from the Surface.

“… What others?”

 

“All right. So. I’ll go in first, you guys wait out here. Okay?”

Sans nodded and Isaac followed after a moment of hesitation and a quick glance at the skeleton he was shoulder to shoulder with on the back porch. Isaac was dwarfed beside Sans, a few inches and quite a few pounds lesser than him. It was odd, to see Sans’ sturdy, fanged face in comparison to Isaac’s soft, fretful round cheeks. If you hadn't been so distracted, you could have laughed.

You put you hand on the doorknob, then paused. You turned back to grab Sans’ hand and squeeze it. He gave yours a gentle squeeze in turn, and you turned away again and swung open the door, too fast to catch Isaac’s gaze.

The kitchen was empty, but something was boiling on the stove. You continued into the living room. Papyrus and Frisk were both kneeling beside a bookshelf, a number of VHS tapes and DVD cases scattered around them- looking for a movie to watch. Papyrus looked up when you entered, beaming happily, perhaps a little relieved.

“AH, HUMAN! YOU HAVE COME BACK SAFE AND SOUND!” Frisk looked up, too, smiling wide and waving a hand. 

“Hey, guys. Yeah, we’re back. Can you guys come into the kitchen for a second? C’mon, don’t whine at me, it’s… a surprise.”

Frisk made a face, then begrudgingly stood up and shuffled to the kitchen right beside Papyrus, who was now very excited. He seated himself on the opposite side of the kitchen from where you stood by the door, taping his long fingers against the floor in anticipation. Frisk stood beside, rocking on their heels. 

“Okay, guys. Don't get carried away, all right? Remember to give him some space, he’s still new here. Okay?” You stepped backward, opened the door and spoke into the gap. “Okay, you can come on in.”

Isaac came first, then Sans. You stepped sideways to make room. Isaac’s wide eyes landed first on Papyrus, then Frisk, and grew wider. 

Papyrus gasped. “Another… human?” He whispered. Frisk gripped the collar of their striped turtleneck, drawing up to their chin, their dark eyes round and wide.

You put a hand on Isaac’s shoulder, but he hardly reacted. “Papyrus. Frisk. This is Isaac. He's… a friend of mine from the Surface.”

Papyrus gaped, but broke into a wide smile. Frisk looked unsettled, almost disturbed- most likely because, you thought, they had never stopped to think another could fall.

Isaac turned to look at you, eyes wide, horrified, and whispered, “You didn't tell me a kid was here!”

Too late, you remembered how much he had loved kids, how often he had volunteered at children's hospitals, how much he had loved his baby sister before she had gone the way of library girl. You swallowed and shrugged, avoiding his haunted gaze. He wiped the look from his face, taking a few steps closer and kneeling on one knee to be level with Frisk. He smiled that smile that brought back memories of warm spring days and sweet, steaming cups of coffee.

"Hey there, star-bright. That's a cute name you've got there. It's great to meet a kid as cute as you in a place like this."

Frisk smiled.

 

“I can’t believe you actually just… climbed Ebott, looking for me.”

Isaac shrugged, rubbing the back of his neck. “I thought for sure you still had to be alive, all I could think was that you were lost somewhere on the mountainside. I couldn’t just do nothing.”

You were seated side by side on the sofa now, shoulders nearly touching. The fire had been prodded back to life from where it had been threatening to putter out, the curtains and blinds drawn so that the room felt closed off, like a box taped shut. Outside, you could hear the wind rattle in the pines, heard the tiny tinkling of snow against the glass. Papyrus was puttering about in the kitchen, Frisk sat on the counter, and Sans was leaning up against the kitchen threshold, looking as though he might be dozing. Sharp and Soft had come in minutes after you’d sat, both chewing contentedly on opposite ends of a stick beside the hearth.

Isaac snapped his fingers suddenly, pulling his bag over his head and mussing up his hair even more with a smile grin on his face. “That reminds me! I brought some stuff, you know, for you, in case I found you, and you… needed help…”

His voice got more and more sheepish as he went on, and his cheeks became steadily pinker as well. He avoided your gaze, zipping open his backpack and plunging his hands inside. First he pulled out several plastic containers full of food (plus two bottles of water), then a first aid kit- brand new?-, and last an armful of clothes, carefully folded. 

You reached for a container with a red lid, popping it open experimentally and ogling at the stew inside. You inhaled deeply, practically drooling. “Oof, I’d forgotten what real food smells like. You packed all this in case you found me on the mountain?”

He nodded, raising an eyebrow curiously. “What do you mean ‘real food’? Surely you've been eating?”

You nodded. “Eating, sure, but pickings are slim when human is a common additive, and any and all meat is out of the picture. Ugh, I could eat this whole thing right now.” You chuckled, snapping the lid back on before you got too tempted. “But it’s best to save it. For a special occasion, maybe.”

You pushed the box away, reaching instead for the clothes. A pair of sweatpants, a pair of jeans, and a sweatshirt. They all looked brand new, and the sweatpants were a size too big for you- it was clear he hadn't been certain what size to get for you- but the gesture was certainly there.

You felt the soft, freshly-bought cloth between your hands, staring down at the simple amber-orange top, and laughed, shaking your head. “You even brought me clothes? It’s been a while since I’ve worn anything in my size; I’ve been wearing Sans’ things for so long.”

An odd look suddenly crossed Isaac’s face at the casual remark, as though he was caught off guard, taken aback. His dappled eyes darted down to the pale gray sweater you had on, then across the room to where Sans had opened one socket; you blinked and slightly raised your eyebrows, but the moment was gone as quickly as it come.

Searching for a change of topic, you placed your chin in your hand, your elbow on your knee. “How did you get through the Ruins? You’ve hardly got a scratch on you, really.”

He blinked, then began searching his pockets. “I just told the monster in the Ruins I was looking for you.”

He pulled his phone from his pocket, pulling up a picture of you- one from a night at the bar, where he had caught you unawares, a mellow smile on your face, the shadow of a laugh in your eyes, a shot glass raised slightly in a toast to… something. You were wearing the same heavy coat you’d brought down with you, your hair pushed away from your face and slightly askew. 

It was like looking at a picture of someone you’d almost forgotten. Your cheeks were fuller, eyes brighter, the sunken shadows beneath your eyes not quite so stark and obvious. There was color in your face, the yellow lights of the bar dancing in your hair and off your half-lidded eyes. It was like looking at a different person- the same you, but from another time, another place, another reality. 

You stared at the picture for a long time, wondering, for the first time in a while, just how much you had changed. After an amount of time- you weren’t sure how long- his words sank in and you looked up.

“And she just… let you through?”

He nodded, though he, too, seemed confused. “Yeah. It was… really sad, for some reason, but it led me right to that door and warned me about how hostile everything I met from then on would be. I think it even wished me luck. I guess it worked- I found you!” He laughed.

“Huh.” You stared down at the picture for another few seconds, then thought of something. “Do you have any other pictures on here?”

 

Sans turned back toward the living room, having briefly checked on Papyrus and Frisk- the two were talking rapidly under their breath a lot, mentioning the new human a lot, but seemed more happy and excited than anything. 

You and the human- ‘Isaac’- were sitting even closer now, shoulders brushing and heads close together. Sans clenched his phalanges around his radius and ulna, arms crossed over his ribs. Your eyes were bright with happiness, a smile lifting your lips so perfectly. You were helping to hold Isaac’s cellphone, each of you having a hand on opposite sides of it. The boy pointed at something, saying something that was drowned by a clatter of noise from the kitchen, and you laughed. Isaac smiled brighter, taking in your expression with a warmness in his eyes, and laughed, though it was shorter than yours, distracted. Sans felt a twist in his chest, a creeping feeling he was unfamiliar with, akin to doubt but worse, almost painful.

You looked up just then, your eyes meeting his with a sort of relaxed joviality, and the feeling subsided. You smiled at him, then waved a hand.

“Sans, c’mere. There’s some stuff here I think you’ll like to see.”

Isaac looked up, apparently taken aback, but did little more than stifle a frown when you both scooted over. You patted the spot beside you, waving Sans over again. Taking a breath, he pushed himself off the wall and made his way over, sitting rather snuggly next to you.

You leaned into him slightly, and the feeling disappeared entirely. “Look, Sans, these are things from the surface. This one’s a sunset, a nice one at that… Some dandelions… Oh, that’s a nice one of the mountain, Isaac, look, Sans, that’s Mt. Ebott!”

Sans stared down at the image on the tiny screen, at the steep, sloping edges of a tree-covered mountain silhouetted against a pale bluish-indigo background; one side was illuminated in pale gold, but the humps of hills below were still cast in shadow. It was hard to imagine that all of that was just overhead, and even harder to comprehend how far the horizon stretched where he could see just around the mountain’s base. It was more like looking at a painting of something that couldn’t exist than a picture of a real thing. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder. “Just wait till you see it for real. You’ll really be blown away, trust me.”

He looked down at you, your eyes now half-closed and smile slight, and he believed you.

You swiped through a few more pictures- a dog, a cup of coffee, a blurry picture of a bird, several of clouds not trapped by a stone ceiling but floating up against a great big blue ‘sky’. Suddenly, there was one of several humans: a grizzled, stern-faced one, a man and woman with mischievous, grinning faces, a bored, sulky man, and- you. You were at a place like Grillby’s, each of you sporting a different kind of drink, the only ones posing for the camera the mischievous two, their arms thrown around the others’ shoulders and drinks held high, threatening to spill. 

“Oh, hey, this is us. Sans, this is my crew, I’ve told you about them.”

You swiped. There were several more of the same group, each obviously set a different time, sometimes with one or two people missing; you were always in them, always in the center of the shot, always smiling, always relaxed.

“Well,” Isaac laughed, forced, awkward, “I guess I should try to save the battery, huh?”

He slipped the phone away, tucked it into his bag. You shrugged one shoulder.

“Sure. It’s not like you’re going to get any signal down here, anyway.”

 

“Why don’t we just have dinner in the living room today? Y’know, to celebrate Isaac being here.”

Papyrus clapped happily. “TERRIFIC IDEA! I’LL PUT THE MOVIE IN!”

He trotted into the living room, Frisk close at his heels. You stayed where you were, alone in the sudden quiet of the empty kitchen. You leaned against the counter for a moment, closing your eyes. Everything that had happened was just sinking in, weighing you down like you had swallowed a stomachful of stones. Isaac, trapped here because he couldn’t bear the thought that you might have climbed the mountain to… to…

“hey. you okay?”

You opened your eyes slowly, Sans standing a few feet away from you, looking concerned. You nodded, slightly, avoided his gaze. Maybe you could pass it off as fatigue. He took a few steps closer. You could feel that sinking feeling dragging you down, down, down, choking you with your own guilt, 

“I won’t ask you what you were doing, that day in the woods,” you said suddenly, pushing the words out on a whim, “I won’t ask, and… neither should you.”

You could feel Sans’ frown, feel his quiet sadness. You kept your eyes on a swirl of cobwebs in the far corner of the room, suddenly not wanting to say anything more, not wanting to face the boy in the other room. The back of a hand touched your cheek, and a hand laid gently on your shoulder.

“whatever happened, i’m glad it led you to me. that’s all.”

You looked up. His gaze was full of reassurance, of empathy, of love. You raised your head and he lowered his; you kissed, lips resting on teeth. It wasn’t sensual, not really anything, but it helped the weight inside you feel less. You pulled apart, and Sans rested his forehead on yours, eyes gazing intensely into yours. 

You stood like that for several seconds. You looked away and met eyes with someone else- Isaac. He was staring into the kitchen from the living room, eyes tracked on you, expression unreadable but looking somehow blank and broken at the same time. 

You stepped back from Sans, looking away. “Um. Could you help me with these plates? I don’t have enough arms to carry one for everyone.”

“sure.” Sans opened the cupboard for you, pulling five plates down and placing them hesitantly in your awaiting arms. As you placed a portion on each plate, he stood just across from you, gaze tracked on your face, a look on his face you couldn’t recognize. Suddenly, he spoke, voice kept low. “that human. were you and him ever…”

You caught on to the unfinished question from his tone and realized what the lingering looks he’d been giving you all evening had been about. “No. We were friends, but nothing more, I promise.”

You said it in a whisper, tone as firm and honest as you could make it. There was no need to bring up Isaac’s feelings for you- that much was obvious enough- nor that you had known about it for a long time before you fell into the Underground. Sans stared at you hard and nodded, taking your hand in his. You squeezed it gently. 

 

“You’re sure you’re okay with sleeping on the couch? I’m sure Papyrus wouldn’t mind having you in his room.”

“No, no, no. I’m fine. I’ve slept on worse.” Isaac laughed, taking the blanket from you. He tilted his head, a slightly concerned look on his face. “What about you? Where are you going to sleep?”

“With Sans, of course.” The words left you without thinking. After they left your mouth, you quickly snapped it shut and just stared at him, unsure what else to say. Again, he looked taken aback, but the look slipped away quickly this time, and he hastily avoided your gaze, running his hands over the blanket slowly.

“Oh.”

“Well. Goodnight. Don't be afraid to come find me if you need anything. Sharp and Soft normally sleep in with Papyrus and Frisk or with me, but if they come down and try to sleep on top of you, feel free to just push them off, they’ll get the message eventually.”

“All right. Um, goodnight. Sleep well.”

You waved halfheartedly, following Sans up the stairs and into his room. You waited by the door for several seconds, holding it open an inch, until you heard the click of the light going out. 

You climbed under the duvet with Sans, crawling eagerly into his arms. You rested your head under his chin, putting your arms around him and pulling him closer. You closed your eyes, realizing for the first time how tired you were, and breathed deeply. You had the sudden impossible fantasy of staying there forever, safe with Sans, away from responsibility and moral dilemmas that tore you in so many directions and caused a deep ache somewhere in your chest.

“just relax, sweetheart. relax and sleep.”

You nodded, letting your shoulders sag, unclenching your jaw. Sans sounded tired, half asleep already. “Yeah. Okay. Everything will turn out okay eventually. I’ll make sure of it.”

“mm. love you.”

“Love you, too, Sans. Love you an awful lot."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Isaac enters the scene! :000000
> 
> Is this chapter paced awkwardly??? Idk, I did some cutting down to take out the parts I particularly disliked or felt were frivolous. I was hoping I'd finish it by Friday, and look at me!!! I did it!!!! Except it's,,, not that great,, sorry hhhhfhhghfhf
> 
> (To those worrying, there will no obsessive jealousies or yandere-ness going on. Tension, yes, murder, no.)
> 
> By the way, does anyone else listen to music while they write? I've been curious to see what songs make you think of this fic, if any. If you know any, let me know in the comments, I'd be so excited to know!!!
> 
> Anyway, I hope this chapter wasn't too crummy. Things will pick up soon, I think. I love you guys and hope you have a good day!!!!


	40. Happy, but a little bit sad, too

You woke abruptly. The room was not yet light, but the darkness was lessening. The air was heavy and unmoving, suppressive in your lungs. Angry hornets were buzzing about in your stomach and it felt like an object the weight of a small elephant had been placed on your chest.

Sans was snoring softly, lying on his back with one arm supporting your head. The bed creaked as you sat up and he groaned, rolling to be on his side before falling back into an unbothered slumber. 

You slung your legs over the edge of the bed and out from under the blankets, the cold sending an instant shudder through your skin and making the hairs stand up in its wake. You stood and stepped lightly over the rugged carpet and heaps of clothing, easing the door open; it was funny that you had memorized his room so thoroughly, you realized, lips twitching into a small smile. Outside the messy room, Soft and Sharp were asleep on either side of the door. You had to tiptoe carefully over the coils of their tail so as not to disturb them. Sharp was snoring loudly, occasionally twitching like a dreaming dog. 

You crept down the stairs, peering over the railing. Isaac was a dark shape on the sofa, halfway curled up on his side. You edged slowly closer, hardly daring to breathe for fear of waking him. His hair was messy and sticking up in places, his arms wrapped around the pillow his cheek was smothered in. With the tense worry gone from his face, he looked as young and soft as ever- the scratches and bruises on his cheeks bothered you as strongly as if they'd been inflicted on a child. You reached out to brush a lock of hair from his face, but hesitated and pulled away at the last second.

You remembered dozing off once whilst waiting for another call to send you running about in an ambulance. You remembered the quiet tink-tink-tink of Boss stirring sugar into his coffee, the click and scratch of someone filling out a report at the table a few feet away. It had been slow that day, such a rarity… so oddly calm in that normally bustling building… You remembered dozing off in one of the sagging, squishy chairs someone had donated decades before, remembered listening to your heart beat so slow and gentle beneath your lungs. You remembered a delicate whisper of a touch on your forehead, remembered waiting until it had lifted to open one eye. You remembered Newbie turning bright red and laughing nervously. “Your hair,” he had blurted out quickly, “it was in your face!” You remembered smiling up at him, opening your eye only to close it in a wink and reassuring him that you had figured as much. He had smiled, cheeks still bright, but this time with a softer, relieved glimmer behind his eyes. You remembered liking how he had looked at you then, but also distinctly remembered thinking that you could not return his feelings and that it would be wrong to give him hope. But how could you ever say such a thing out loud? You had never found a way. 

You walked abruptly away from the sofa.

 

The old, scuffed bathroom tiles were cold beneath your feet. The sink was made of something smooth and white, almost like porcelain, but accented and mottled, like quartz. The mirror was stained and smudged, worn off and tarnished in the lower righthand corner; that would probably creep up the sides in time. The person looking back at you from behind the glass almost startled you at first, in much the same way ones moving reflection might startle oneself in the dead of night. For a second, perhaps still caught in the memory stirred up moments before, to you it had looked strange to see such a version of yourself in the silvery glass. You stopped and really looked at yourself for the first time in… How long?

You leaned over the sink, touching one of the dark, baggy shadows beneath your eyes and pulling it down to see how it contrasted to the skin of your cheek. That wasn't much better- your cheeks were pallor and off-colored, almost gray. You tugged on a strand of hair dangling from your crown: diluted and dull just the same. The color was still there, just harder to distinguish beneath the haze of bad health. Your eyes, however, were the same as they'd always been- same color, same vibrancy, not as diluted as the rest of you, though struck through with bright red veins. You held up a hand to the light, turning it over once or twice. How long must it have been, really, since the sun had warmed your skin, for you to change so much?

You felt your chin, brushed a thumb along your eyebrows, ran a hand up and down your leg. Your skin was chapped and dry in many places. You had been using whatever soap and shampoo had been available for so long, you had long since forgotten to care about whatever affect it might have on your flesh. You ran a hand through your hair, and came out with your fingers draped in loose, thin hairs. Was that the shampoo, stress, or protein deficiency? Or perhaps all three, you laughed under your breath. You frowned, suddenly picturing Isaac with the same complexion as yours.

You made the water as hot as it could be and scrubbed hard enough to make the skin turn red as you showered. You splashed your face, pressed wet fingertips to your eyelids, in an attempt to feel… fresher. Better? You didn't really know. You just felt tired, and hoped it would help. It did, somewhat, but the hornets were still buzzing, your head still reeling.

You changed into the new pair of sweats and one of Sans’ sweatshirts, this one a pale, grayish red. When you exited the bathroom, it seemed anyone had yet to wake. Isaac was in a different position, now curled up tighter, the blanket tucked up close to his chin. You needed to get some firewood. 

 

It was cold outside. Cold as ever, really, but somehow, this time, it seemed to stick to your skin and creep to your bones. You breathed out through your nose, watching the steam curl away like smoke from an angered dragon’s maw.

You sat on the steps, left foot slipping on the ice condensed on the old, splintering wood. You had jammed your feet into your boots haphazardly, the laces dangling out around your ankles. You wiggled your toes, feeling the tangle of laces stuck underneath your feet. You took a deep breath and closed your eyes, trying to clear your thoughts.

“… There’s another human.”

You opened your eyes slowly and glanced down. Flowey was a few feet away from the toes of your boots, staring at you intensely through that single eye. It was almost unnerving- he didn't even blink.

“There’s another human. You've got them inside that house. Don’t you? He’s in there, with that dumb kid and all those dumb monsters.”

You nodded, hunching over to prop your elbow on your knee and your chin in your palm. “His name is Isaac.”

The stem twisted so his eye was upside down- if you hadn't watched the movement and heard the gruesome crunch, you wouldn’t even know the difference. “You know him?”

You nodded. He stared at you intently for several seconds, long enough for you to wonder what he could possibly be reading in your gaze. The light behind the eye changed- for some reason, you felt he would be grinning if he had a mouth.

“You’ve thought it, too, haven't you? ‘One more soul is all it would take,’” his voice turned high-pitched and raspy, a terrible mockery of Undyne. “You've thought it. If you want to live so bad, and it would be sooo unfair to put a child on the line, we’ve got a different soul ripe for the taking, right inside that door. All we have to do,” with a wet ripping noise, an array of long, needle thin teeth split through the skin around the eye, a grotesque halo, “is take that opportunity.”

You looked down at him as sap drip-drip-dripped down his ragged petals. You closed your eyes, cheek still in your hand, and sighed. “No.”

“… No?”

“That doesn’t have to happen, Flowey.”

“…S-so, what, are you gonna offer your own fleshy neck for the chopping block?”

You opened your eyes. “There has to be a better way to solve this. Death can’t be the only answer.”

He glared at you, the teeth sinking back into wherever they came from. “That’s the way it is down here. It’s kill. Or. Be. Killed. Either you kill someone, or someone kills you, stupid.”

You sat up, shaking your head. “Then we’ll just stay down here until a third option presents itself.”

Flowey glared, fiercer than ever. “Selfish. Not all of us want to be stuck down here forever, you know.”

You ignored the sudden throb in your ribcage, frowning. “It won’t be forever. Something has to happen eventually.”

“… You’re a coward.”

“No, I’m not. Wanting to save as many people as possible isn’t cowardice.”

His demeanor suddenly shifted, the glare looking less murderous and more like a confused, furious child’s, and he abruptly turned away. “Sometimes it feels like it.”

You studied him, hunched over with his eye pointed toward the ground, sulky, upset. Like a moody child who didn't get what he wanted. You got up and knelt on your heels in the snow beside him, touching the back of his stem. He twitched, but didn't lash out. You ran your fingers up and down his stem a few times. The scarf you had given him was still wound around his ‘neck,’ now speckled with dirt.

“What’s your story, Flowey? How did you get here?”

He was silent for a long time, allowing you to stroke his stem as comfortingly as you knew how. “I… Who cares?”

With a scuffing noise, he disappeared into the dirt and stone beneath your feet. You sighed, standing stiffly and staring down at where he’d been. 

“…I do.”

You shoved your way through the ankle-deep snow to the steps, edging up the sagging steps with one hand clutching a support beam, cautious of slipping on the ice. You weren’t sure you’d be able to get up. You shoved your hands into the pile of roughly cut firewood stacked in a long, tall pyramid against the wall; your back throbbed painfully when you straightened. You pushed the door ajar with your shoulder, nudging it closed with your heel.

 

It took you a few minutes and several wads of paper to coax a stable flame from the wood. You breathed in the heavy, woody scent of burning pine. You used to find it a somewhat unpleasant smell, but now it filled your head with thoughts of sleepy evenings and blankets draped around tired shoulders. You sat in front of the hearth for several minutes, wanting to lose yourself in the swirl of soft orange tongues of fire and palest green of young wood beneath flaking bark. 

As you were coming back into the living room, now with a glass of water and a steaming mug of tea, Isaac sat up on the sofa, yawning and rubbing his eyes. It was lighter now- light enough to really be considered morning, anyway. You turned on the lamp beside the sofa and sat beside the boy with a smile.

“Mornin’.” You whispered, not quite wanting to wake the others yet.

“Good morning,” he yawned again, blinking groggily. He accepted the mug with a grateful hum when you held it out. “Mm, thanks. What time is it…?”

You shrugged. “I dunno. Early morning, or thereabouts. Maybe the underground equivalent to 7 in surface-time.”

He sipped at the tea, then winced and stuck out the tip of his tongue. “Ouch.” You chuckled. “Don't they have a clock around here?”

It was an innocent inquiry, not an accusation. You shrugged. “Maybe somewhere. I never would have put much faith in it, anyway. The only ones who could tell the position of the sun live in the Ruins, and, well. There’s isn't exactly a ‘come back soon’ policy there.”

“Hm.” He looked out the window from where the drapes had opened a sliver, out at the pines glowing like ghosts in the strengthening light. “So… where does the light come from, then? If there’s no way to see the sun while in the mountain except in the first chamber.”

You shrugged again. “I don't know. All the books I've read are really vague about that part… Something about geothermal energy and a ‘core’ of some kind… Maybe magic, for all I know.”

Isaac laughed and shook his head meekly. “I’m too tired to be trying to figure that out. You sure have gotten used to living down here, huh? You've even got your own way of telling time without even seeing the sky for reference… I would have gone mad down here.”

You rolled one shoulder, trying to work out a kink in the muscles. “Its all just a part of learning how to live properly in a place not meant for you, I guess. My body-clock just synced up to a schedule that was most convenient. The rest of it… Well, it helped that I wasn’t alone, trying to figure all of it out, y’know?”

Isaac nodded, though after a moment of hesitation. “Yeah. I guess I know what you mean. I mean…”

He broke off suddenly. You raised an eyebrow at him, bringing one knee up to hold close to your chest. “What?”

“I don't know. I was thinking how much easer it would have been for you if you were with other humans. Instead of, you know… those ‘monster’ things.” He sipped on his tea again, cautiously this time.

You frowned. “They can speak, you know. Its not like I had to figure out what they were saying in some strange monster-language.”

He laughed quietly. “No, I know, I just… They’re like… animals, almost, or beasts, maybe? I don't know how to describe it.”

You rolled your eyes. “Sure, some of them are, but they've got civilization, doctors, towns, can build and create things, they look after their young and respect a ruler. They're intelligent, Isaac. Just because they don't look like our typical idea of ‘advanced lifeforms’ doesn't mean they aren't. You’ll get what I mean the sooner you take off those rose-colored glasses.”

He tilted his head, confused. “… What?”

You closed your eyes, leaning back against the sofa cushions. “You’re viewing this strictly through a human perspective. Think about it this way- if some huge group of, like, birds, I guess, decided to gang up on humans just because they didn’t like them, and banished them to a strange place with little resources and hardly enough room for the lot of them, even though they all could have settled it if the birds had stopped and talked with them about it for a minute, wouldn’t you be pretty mad?”

He nodded, though he looked amused by your analogy. 

“Now replace humans with monsters and birds with humans, and add on to that that they've been trapped here for centuries, stewing in their anger and sadness and desperation that whole time, fighting just to get by, unable to forgive nor forget what's been done.” He was silent, staring down into his mug. “Just give them a chance. If they haven't eaten me yet, and, trust me, they've had plenty of reason to, its safe to say they won’t so much as lay a finger on you.”

He was frowning now, troubled. “… Look, I’m sorry if I offended you. It’s all just been…”

“One hell of a ride?” He nodded. You chuckled and gave him a solid pat on the back. “I know. I’m just trying to help you through here. It’ll get easier the longer you’re down here.” He winced. You pulled your hand away. It seemed you had touched a nerve. You hesitated, but figured now was the best time to ask. “Hey, I don’t know if you know or not, but how long do you think I’ve been down here?”

He looked away, a small frown on his face. “… Over a year and a half.”

“Wow.” You leaned back, running a hand through your hair. “I’d suspected, but… jeez. Huh. Guess that means I missed a birthday. Maybe two.”

There was a long pause. Isaac looked at you again, that searching looking he’d given you so often the day before. Suddenly, as if on a whim, as if forcing himself to, he spoke again:

“So… why didn’t you come back?”

You looked at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

“There’s got to be some way out of here. Some sort of hole in the mountainside, like the one I jumped through, or an old mining shaft…”

You leaned back on the couch cushions, closing your eyes and letting you head lull back. “There is. It’s sealed.”

“… But…”

“The only way to get through it,” you continued, before he could voice his inevitable question, “is to kill a monster.”

“… Kill one?”

“Yes. On purpose.”

“There’s-”

“No other way, no.”

“You’d… have to kill one of them.”

“Yup.”

“And you didn’t have the heart to. Not even if it meant coming back home.”

You remained quiet. One of his hands touched yours, wrapping around your palm feebly at first, then more firmly. You heard him breathe in and out slowly, once, twice. Then, he chuckled, weakly. You opened your eyes, rolling your head over to look at him. He was smiling, but it was wobbly, sad, yet somehow warm.

“I guess you’ll never really change, will you?”

You had to close your eyes to escape that look on his face. “They’re just as alive as you and I, Isaac. I wouldn’t ask of it of you, and I couldn’t ask it of them.”

It was quiet for a long time. You eventually rolled your head over to stare at the ceiling again, gently slipping your hand out of his. He let you, quickly tucking his hands into his lap as if to make sure they didn’t touch you. 

He cleared his throat. You looked over. “Uh, everyone says hi and wants you to know that they love you. Thats what they told me to tell you, in case I found you.”

You smiled, though suddenly your throat felt restricted. “Aha. Well, the message is received and greatly appreciated. My regards to the messenger.”

You tried to take a deep breath. Just then, you heard the creak of footsteps upstairs. Isaac looked at the balcony anxiously, clearly unsure what to expect. You stretched your legs out in front of you, taking a moment to scrub at your face with the heels of your hands and recollect yourself. 

“Well.” You listened for a moment, then chuckled. “It’s almost certainly not Papyrus. We’d know if it was him, believe me. Probably isn’t Frisk, them and Papyrus typically go hand in hand, and the kid doesn’t make that much noise… That means its either Orthrus, or-”

A door clicked open. There was a snort and scuffle and the soft thump of some footsteps, then Sans appeared at the top of the stairs, flanked by Sharp and Soft. You wiggled your fingers up at him, smiling crookedly. 

“Mornin’, sunshine. About time you got up.”

Sans stayed there a brief second, surveying the scene, then began to descend the stairs. Sharp and Soft came down more slowly, Sharp having to move practically sideways to manage with his imbalance. You stood up to meet Sans halfway when he reached the bottom step, walking over to touch his sleeve- a gesture not so obvious that it might make things awkward for the other human present to notice, but not so subtle that Sans wouldn’t notice.

He leaned over, pressing a brief kiss to your forehead. When he spoke, it was little over a whisper. “mornin’, sweetheart.”

“So. Sleep well, with another human in the house?” You laughed, leading the way into the kitchen. If Sans was up, that would mean it would not be long before Frisk and Papyrus were, too, so you might as well get started on breakfast.

“hmph, surprisingly.” You chuckled, leaning your head fleetingly on his shoulder.

“Well, that's good. You’ll have to get used to it sooner or later.”

You had just pulled away when Isaac came stepping into the kitchen, empty mug clutched tightly in his hands, a harried expression on his face. You realized the cause of his rush a second later, when Sharp and Soft came in close at his heels, attempting to sniff at his pant legs and muttering incoherently.

Isaac rushed over to the sink, hastily filling the mug with water and setting it loudly in the basin. He turned around, pushing himself up against the counter when Soft sniffed close to his foot. He tucked his feet as far back as he could manage, looking at you with a forced, tense grin.

“S-so. Uh.” His voice cracked on the first syllable. He cleared his throat loudly. “Need any help in here?”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Sure. Go occupy yourself, smelly.” You patted Sans on the back, giving him a smile. “Too many cooks ruins the stew. Or… something along those lines. Maybe take Sharp and Soft out for a bit. Not too long, though, we don't want Sharp opening up any old wounds with too much strain…”

Sans huffed but nodded, pressing his teeth to your hair before turning away, clicking for Sharp and Soft to follow. The Orthrus went trotting after him, Soft taking a moment to bump their head against his hand; he gave them a brief pet, then had to pull away to put a hand on the doorknob. Isaac stared after him until the front door opened and shut again, looking as confused as ever.

 

“Ah, there’s the funtime brigade. Morning, guys, sleep well?”

Papyrus nodded, immediately craning his neck over Isaac to peer into his mixing bowl; Isaac audibly sucked in a sharp breath between his teeth and held it. Frisk walked up to your side and tugged on your sleeve. You patted an empty spot on the counter.

“I don’t know if I could pick you up today, my back’s giving me a hard time. Come on, hop up.”

With a small grunt, they pulled themselves up and, with a little confusion, turned around to dangle their legs off the side. They tugged on your sleeve, staring intently into the muffin tin you were dusting with cinnamon sugar. When you raised an eyebrow, they waved you closer with one hand. You leaned over, offering an ear. They put one hand on your shoulder, their hair brushing your cheek.

“Is Isaac… okay?”

You understood the meaning- not was he feeling well, but was he a good person. They must've been thinking about him over the course of the night, uncertain what to make of him. You nodded, reassuring them, “Yes, he’s very fun. He’s plenty friendly and kind, he’s just… nervous. He’ll warm up with a little help. He loves to make friends, especially with charming kids like yourself.”

You ruffled their hair and they ducked away and swatted at your hand, snorting. You smiled, wrapping one arm around them and squeezing them into your side. When you released them, you dusted off your hands and turned to face the room at large. Isaac was stirring the mixture painfully slow, eyes glued on the lumpy mess inside, and Papyrus was watching so closely Isaac could probably feel (and smell) his breath.

“Here,” you laughed, gently taking the bowl from Isaac’s hands; he looked relieved. “What you’ve got to do is stir as if you’re cutting into it with the spoon. I’ve heard it helps keep out excessive air bubbles, but don’t quote me on that.”

“O-okay. Alright. Um, yeah.” Isaac shuffled backwards, scratching at his wrist. “I’ve never been very good at baking, sorry.”

“Don’t sweat it.” You waved one hand idly, dipping a finger into the mix to give it a taste. 

Frisk slid off the counter and tugged on Isaac’s sleeve. He looked down, raising his eyebrows and smiling slightly; this was much more his speed. Frisk grabbed his hand and dragged him toward the living room. “C’mon, Isaac, I can show you the jigsaw Papyrus and I are almost done with.”

Isaac laughed, allowing himself to be tugged along. “All right! How many pieces is it?”

“Three hundred and fifty!”

“Oh, wow! That takes dedication!”

Papyrus went after them, grinning wide and looking proud. You smiled, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly. Relieved. They would get along. Isaac would open up with a little time, and realize that this place wasn’t so bad.

The kitchen was suddenly empty, and very quiet. That sinking feeling was attempting to come back, those thoughts you could keep at bay while busy with the others creeping back in, like the drone of an angry flock of gnats descending one by one upon a carcass. The oven hummed, a small buzz deep inside. You focused on that.

 

Sans stomped the snow off his shoes as he mounted the front steps. Sharp and Soft were huffing and puffing loudly, excited after finding some small rodent near the tree line and promptly tearing it apart. Soft tread in circles around Sans, rubbing the top of his head against his hands. Sans rolled his eyes but obliged, giving them a gentle scratch.

He opened the door and stood aside to let the Orthrus in. They scrambled over the threshold, shaking off small drops and crystals of half-melted snow. Sans stepped inside, quickly closing the door behind him to save the heat.

He had already kicked his shoes aside when he realized the living room was not unoccupied. Frisk, Papyrus, and the new human were seated close together, papers and puzzle pieces scattered about them. Sans felt an odd sense of jarring when he had to check twice to realize it was not you, showing Frisk and Papyrus something new, but that new one- “Isaac.” 

Sans walked over, standing behind Isaac in such a way that he could see what had Frisk and Papyrus’ rapturous attention. The stocky skeleton raised a brow: Isaac had a piece of paper bent and folded beneath his hands, and was explaining another crease he was putting on it as though it had some sort of meaning other than looking like a mess.

“looks like you guys are having fun over here.”

The human jumped, twisting to look up at Sans through wide, fearful eyes. Sans squinted at him. He hastily turned back to the paper, shoulders a little stiffer than before. 

“I was- I was just showing Frisk how to make a paper airplane…”

Sans raised a brow again. “airplane?”

Isaac scratched at his wrist, hands abandoning his odd project. “I guess you guys wouldn’t know what those are- they're these giant machines, like buses, but much bigger, and they can fly, and can take anyone anywhere in the world, and some of them can go so fast they break the sound barrier, and… er…” Catching Papyrus’ perplexed look, the human’s voice slowly trailed off. He was silent for a bit, then hurriedly made a few movements with the paper. “Just, uh, look, when you make the paper this shape, it…”

He picked up the paper and tossed it feebly over Frisk’s head. It hovered in the air for a surprisingly long distance before the tip of it dipped down and it struck the side of a table; it fell as though quite suddenly dead. Sans snorted; Sharp and Soft galloped over it to, sniffing at it curiously. Papyrus clapped.

“SHOW ME AGAIN, I WANT TO MAKE ONE!”

Isaac laughed a little awkwardly. “Uh, sure. Okay.”

Sans stood there for another second, watching as Isaac grabbed another paper and began to explain the whole process over again, then turned away. He could hear you humming tunelessly in the kitchen and was drawn to you as easily as gravity kept his feet on the ground. 

He shed his jacket, draping it haphazardly on the back of a chair, and shuffled up behind you. You were fanning a large plate of steaming muffins with an oven glove, seemingly lost somewhere inside your own head. Sans smiled and leaned forward so his front pressed against your back, wrapping his arms snuggly around your middle. You flinched, abruptly drawn from your thoughts, then sighed and pressed a hand to your chest.

“Y’know, for someone so bulky and, y’know, made of bone, you sure can sneak up on an unsuspecting person.” Despite your unamused tone, you leaned your head back on his shoulder with a small smile, eyes closing, vulnerable, peaceful. Sans tried not to stare, but it was hard.

“hey, it ain’t my fault you don’t pay attention.”

You chuckled. “Watch yourself, mister The Skeleton.” Sans snorted and nuzzled his nasal bone into the back of your hair. You squirmed, fighting back a smile, apparently ticklish there. Sans did it again. “Saaans, come on, the muffins are gonna get cold, they’re best served hot.”

Sans sighed, but pulled away. As he did, he caught a glimpse of an angry red mark on the inside of your wrist. He stopped you as you turned toward the living room, plate of muffins in hand; he took the outside of the wrist and gently turned it over. “you alright?”

You nodded, looking tiredly at the pink streak. “Yes. I touched one of the heating coils while I was pulling the pan out, that's all. I was distracted. It hardly hurts.”

The burn was tender and taut looking, uncomfortable to even look at. You pulled away before Sans could say anything, walking into the living room with a call of, “All right, gather round and be careful not to burn yourselves, they're hot! Yes, that means you, too, Sharp, Soft. Everyone should get at least one and a half.”

Sans followed after grabbing a bandage from the first aid kit under the sink. You were sat beside Isaac, smiling as though satisfied as Frisk ravenously bit into a cinnamon-sugar scented treat. The kid had a wide, full-mouthed smile on their cheeks, and Papyrus was already onto a second. Sharp and Soft had torn one in two and were squabbling, playfully trying to steal the other’s pieces and basically making a huge mess. Isaac was eating his slow, tearing off chunks and biting off yet smaller pieces of those.

Sans sat beside you, gently taking your hurt wrist in one of his hands. He carefully pulled off the wrapper of the bandage with his teeth, smoothing the bandage over the worst of the mark with his thumb. You watched his hands the whole time, expression somehow tired and sad and tender all at once. When he slowly released your wrist, you latched onto his hand suddenly, fingers entangling with his.

“Thanks, big guy.” 

Your voice wasn’t low or quiet, gratitude like silk in the tone. You had a look on your face he wanted to keep framed in his memory forever, smile slight, eyebrows just barely tipped up, eyes almost sleepy, half closed and filled with that warm, fuzzy kind of love that comes most when you lie down beside your other and are hit quite suddenly with how much you care about them. Goodness, he loved your eyes- something about them was just… perfect. He wasn’t sure when he had first realized it, but right then it was so clear to him.

You squeezed his hand, and then the moment was over too quickly. Sans suddenly realized Isaac had stopped eating and was staring at him, eyes round and wide, and for the first time the skeleton realized that the human’s eyes were odd, one iris a shade of brown, the other hazel-green. Sans could feel conflicting emotions in the boy’s soul, emotions tangled together but drawn out by a similar source: Confusion, alarm, a strange sort of fearful sadness.

This info was gathered rather quickly: Isaac hastily looked down when Sans met his gaze. You seemed to realize there was a moment of tension and suddenly stood up. The group looked up, some startled, others curious. Soft bounded to their feet, caught up in their own excitement. You planted your hands on your hips, looking around the room distractedly.

“So, gang, why don’t we all, uh… just…” You stared blankly around for a second, then suddenly snapped your fingers. “Ah! Why don’t we build a pillow fort?”

Frisk immediately jumped up and clapped happily, which made Isaac grin, but Papyrus and Sans exchanged a baffled glance.

“… A WHAT?”

“A pillow fort! Come on, don’t tell me you guys never built pillow forts when you were kids? Ahh, you’re missin’ out, come on, Frisk and I’ll show you. Isaac, help me move these tables out of the way, Frisk, you know where the extra cushions and blankets are?”

You clapped your hands together, rubbing your palms in anticipation with a grin that made Sans smile, too. 

“Ooh, this is going to be fun.”

 

“Ah, look out, Papyrus, your shoulder pad is caught, you're gonna make the quilt come down on us-“

“Ow!”

“Agh, sorry, did I kneel on your fingers? I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to! Should I get you some ice?”

“I think I’m okay.”

“Oh, good, I’m really sorry…”

“It’s okay, Isaac.”

“Sharp, no, if you keep chewing on that, there’s going to be stuffing everywhere…”

You chuckled, tugging the old pillow away from Sharp’s dagger-like teeth. You fell back amongst the heap of pillows that littered the ‘floor’ of the pillow fort; it had really come long, now nearly big enough to fit the whole group comfortably.

Nearly. Not quite. 

Papyrus had took very enthusiastically to the idea once he understood, so enthusiastically, in fact, that you had to rebuild the whole thing twice because he did something or other with a little too much vigor. Sans had helped with the building. Once or twice. Maybe. Mostly he had just laid down once you threw down the pillows to make the ‘floor.’ You weren't at all surprised, and you were sure he chuckled when you tripped and fell over him a small number of times. 

He opened one eye to look at you, head resting on his crossed arms. You could just see the edge of a smile from behind his baggy sweater sleeves. You smiled, propping yourself up on one elbow and raising an eyebrow at him. 

“Well, someone looks comfy. Enjoying yourself, you slacker?”

Sans snorted, and the smile might have twitched up higher. “very much so.”

You shook your head. “Unbelievable. To think this is who I’m stuck with.”

He scoffed. You laughed, leaning over and touching your forehead to his. 

“I’m kidding, you big oaf. You should know that.”

Sans closed his eyes and sighed, content. Happy. “yeah. i do.”

You flushed, suddenly embarrassed for whatever stupid reason, and turned away, poking at the quilt ‘roof’ above your head. It quivered, and Frisk yelped out a “Hey!” from outside the fort, as if indignant that you might be ruining their masterpiece. You chuckled.

“How’s it going out there?”

“Really good! I think it’s almost done, Papyrus just wants to add one last thing…”

“Oh yeah? Like what?”

Isaac snickered. “It’s… it’s a sign that says ‘Cool people only.’”

You nodded, crossing your arms behind your head. “Nice.”

A few seconds later, everyone was struggling to squeeze into the fort and find enough space to comfortable. Frisk elbowed you in the side, and Papyrus slipped on one of the pillows and crushed you for a few seconds before managing to get up again; Isaac had planted himself at the back of the fort, back pressed up against the sofa, and tucked his knees to his chest, laughing as Frisk crawled under Papyrus to get to a free wedge of space on the other side of the lanky skeleton. Orthrus, apparently not liking all the commotion, crawled out of the fort and stretched out on the floor just outside, like some two-bodied guard.

“Sans, you are taking up way too much space, you need to move or find a way to decrease your mass because this is just ridiculous.”

“nah.”

“You’re taking up like seven eighths of the floor.”

“sorry, can’t hear ya.i’m sleepin’.”

“You are. Impossible.”

“ah, but you did me.”

You turned brilliant red, neck and ears burning furiously. You punched his shoulder, trying to retain some dignity. He was laughing, though it was muffled by his folded arms. “Sans!”

“sorry, sorry.” He couldn’t seem to stop his chuckles, and he lifted his head enough to grin at you crookedly. “it was practically giftwrapped for me. i couldn’t just let it slip by.”

“Oh, sure, no, of course not.” You rolled your eyes and wrinkled your nose down at him, and he broke into another chuckling fit.

“I’m kind of surprised we all fit in here as well as we do-” Isaac laughed, then stopped when he caught sight of your- still red- face. “Hey, you okay? You’re a little… pink.” He glanced between you and Sans, raising an eyebrow at Sans’ laughter. “What? What were you guys talking about? I didn't catch it.”

“Good!” You spoke before he could Sans the chance to. Sans laughed harder. “It’s good you didn’t. Don’t worry about it. It’s nothing. Just some stupid pun.”

Sans snorted, and Isaac still looked confused, but just then your salvation appeared in the form of Papyrus. He was lying on his stomach, feet lifted over his back and Frisk seated between his elbows. He was looking absolutely delighted, grinning wide and tapping his fingers sporadically.

“SO WHAT NOW? DO WE DEFEND OUR MIGHTY FORT? DO WE CONTINUE TO BRAINSTORM WAYS TO MAKE IT EVEN GRANDER?”

“Well,” you laughed, crammed between him and Sans’ side, unable to lean back for fear of crushing Isaac, “I suppose we could do anything. Tell stories, watch movies, play board games…”

“ANYTHING?” Papyrus tilted his head curiously, and you could practically see him frantically searching through his mental list of all his favorite things to do.

“Let’s watch a movie!” Frisk clapped, quickly crawling out through the blanket-draped entrance. 

You chuckled, leaning onto Sans. “Well, I guess that decides what we’re gonna be doing for the next few hours. I’m not sure how my back feels about that, especially in this position…”

Sans’ expression changed from amused to concerned. “y’alright?”

You shrugged. “Yeah. I think I just slept in an odd position.”

“here, lie down.”

“Where? On top of you?”

You said it jokingly, but it turns out that’s just what he had in mind. It was a little awkward, but not entirely uncomfortable. You crossed your arms on his head and rested your chin on them, sighing contentedly.

“You okay down there? I’m not squishing you, am I?”

Sans snorted. “oh, yeah, you’re so heavy, you’re crushing the breath out of me, i can’t even breathe.”

You snorted, flicking your fingers against his skull playfully. “Oh, excuse me for being worried. My apologies, it won’t happen again.”

Sans rolled his eyes, but you could see the edge of a smile on his cheekbones. What you couldn’t see was Isaac’s confused, conflicted expression, the slightest frown on his face as you let yourself relax, draped over the bulky skeleton.

“Okay, I’ve put one in!” Frisk hurriedly back into the fort, tv remote in their hands. They crawled back into Papyrus’ arms, burying themselves into a particularly plush pillow. “Isaac, I think you’ll really like this one, this is one my favorites!”

You snorted. “You say that about every one you pick out.”

“Shh! It's starting!”

 

You’d been watching movies for hours now, just as you had predicted. It had gotten dark out, but no one had bothered to turn on any lamps. Just a little while ago, you and Isaac had gotten up to stretch your legs and get the group something to eat. Isaac had insisted on opening one of the containers of food he’d brought for you; the one he picked was beef stew, which caused some alarm and confusion amongst Sans and Papyrus when they first saw you take a bite without hesitating. Isaac had divided it up, giving you and Frisk the bowls with the most meat in them. With a twinge of sad gratitude, you realized he was trying to make up for the protein you hadn’t been able to eat all this time.

You scooped up another spoonful of carrots and celery, chewing slowly. “Okay, this isn't saying much, but this is the best beef stew I’ve had in a long time, Isaac, did you make this?”

Isaac nodded, smiling sheepishly. “Aheh, uh, yeah. It’s a simple-”

“Shh!” Frisk reached over, covering Isaac’s mouth with one hand. “It’s the best part!”

Isaac smiled at you, laughter in his eyes, from behind Frisk’s hand, and chuckled when you rolled your eyes ‘exasperatedly.’ You put your bowl down, having eaten your fill, and fought back a smile when Soft immediately plunged their face into it, searching for scraps. The food had left you feeling warm and comfortable, soothed into relaxation by a full stomach.

The movie was winding down, a soft, slow swell music rising in the background as the credits began to creep up the screen. Papyrus clapped, looking groggy after the meal but happy with the ending nonetheless. Frisk suddenly laughed, making you look over curiously.

“What?”

They giggled. “It’s like a slow dance song.”

You laughed. “Hah, you’re right.”

You stood up a little unsteadily, reaching back with open palms. You didn’t quite notice Isaac start forward, complexion slightly red and expression happily surprised, nor did you notice him stop suddenly when you grabbed Sans’ hands instead of his. 

Sans stood with as much grace as you had, huffing through slightly red cheekbones. Sharp lifted his head to look up, then sneezed and plopped his head down on Soft’s shoulder again. “…i can’t dance.”

You laughed, guiding one of his hands to your waist and intertwining your fingers between his on the other. You rubbed his shoulder, trying to convince him to loosen up. “Heck, neither can I. Just relax, big guy, we can be a couple of stumbling idiots together and still have a good time.”

Sans rolled his eyes, but ultimately gave in, allowing you to draw him in. You led, as he couldn't seem to find any rhythm and was overly cautious of stepping on your toes, but you didn’t mind; it almost felt natural, though you'd never been very good at the whole ‘slow dancing’ thing. You kept your head down for the first minute to watch your feet, smiling and laughing at yourself whenever you stumbled and stubbed your toes against his with a “Whoops” or an “Ah, sorry.” 

Back and forth, turn and step, turn and back, forward and step… It felt so easy, so simple. Forward and back, turn and step, turn again. Eventually it devolved into swaying in place, the two of you so close you could feel his warmth. You rested your head on his chest, rocking back and forth. He leaned his chin into your hair, rubbing his thumb back and forth against the back of your hand.

The song winded down, the screen fading to complete darkness. You and Sans stood there for several seconds, then pulled apart. You smiled at him, and he smiled back, holding your hand for a second before leaning forward to press a toothy kiss to your cheek and pulling away completely. You took a moment to savor that moment before turning to get back into the pillow fort. 

You paused and blinked. For a second, you thought Isaac had been looking at you, smiling, but the look in his eyes had been sad enough to make you worry. But you could have been mistaken- you only saw it for a moment, and then he had turned to look the other way in such a way that you couldn’t see his face. You lifted a brow, confused, but slowly sat back in your spot. Sans sat himself beside you, taking a moment to lean his shoulder on yours. You leaned back. Papyrus had dozed off and Frisk was leaning their cheek onto his shoulder, smiling groggily at you through their askew bangs. You yawned, scratching at your side numbly. 

“So. One more movie, or should we call it a night?” Frisk mumbled something about one last movie, crawling over Papyrus’ arms and making their way around Sharp and Soft’s snoozing forms.

“Uh, I’m gonna go get a glass of water, feel free to start the movie without me.” Isaac coughed, standing and tiptoeing over the minefield of slumbering forms. You hummed in acknowledgement, leaning back and wrapping one arm under a pillow to prop your head up, blinking slowly.

Sans gazed after the boy as he disappeared into the kitchen, and only because he was listening for it did he catch the soft open and shut of the back door.

 

It was cold outside, snow swirling in gentle eddies against the dark, dark background. It was late in the night, late enough that the snow on the trees was naught but a silvery-indigo shadow hanging in the gloom; if it weren't for the light coming through the window on the door, it would have been pitch black to the human boy’s eyes. As it was, the harsh yellow-white glow illuminated four perfect rectangles on the pristine snow over his shoulder. 

Isaac was sitting on the porch, feet resting on the second step, head dipped toward the ice glittering beneath his unlaced boots. He didn’t turn when Sans slowly pushed the door open, occupied with a quiet sniffle. He reached one hand up and swabbed at his cheek as Sans came up behind him.

He looked up, startled, when one of the boards creaked beneath Sans’ feet. His eyes were wide and wet, cheeks glittering. 

“O-oh, uh, hey.” He quickly twisted around so Sans couldn’t see, drawing his sleeve up to scrub at his eyes. Sans sat heavily beside him, adjusting what he was holding from one arm to the other. 

“heya.”

It was quiet for a long time. Isaac’s tears had stopped, but he continued to stare down at his feet, expression half hidden in shadow but clearly not bright with a smile anymore. Sans could feel rolling tides of emotion coming off of his soul- how could he stand to feel so strongly? Sadness, loss, realization, despair, and something else Sans couldn’t immediately put a name to… The human chipped off a piece of ice from the ledge he was sitting on with his little finger, rolling it between two fingers until it melted against his skin. His breath rose in wavering shapes, hovering over his head for half a second before slipping into nonexistence. 

“They, uh… They really like you, y’know?” Isaac spoke suddenly, voice small but unwavering, raw. It was the first time he’d ever really spoken to Sans as though he was another person and not a thing.

“yeah. i know.”

Isaac smiled. “Treat them well, okay?”

Sans raised his eye brows slightly, suddenly realizing what it was that Isaac was feeling: Acceptance, and a sad sort of happiness. 

“‘course.”

Isaac laughed, short and weak. “Thanks.”

Sans shrugged, then unfolded the blanket in his arms and threw it halfheartedly over the human’s shoulders. Isaac wrapped it around himself gratefully, hands holding it fast around his shoulders. Sans stayed there for several more seconds, allowing the tide of Isaac’s feelings to ebb and slow, then huffed and pushed himself to his feet.

“c’mon. you’ll get sick if you stay out here, or something else will get to you before the bacteria.”

Isaac laughed again, though it seemed a little tenser, a little forced, and stood. “Uh, yeah. Okay. Sure.”

Sans had mostly been joking, but as the odd duo made their way back inside, Isaac stifled a weak cough. He raised an eyebrow at the human, but couldn’t smell any sour tinge of illness on him. Maybe that was his idea of a joke, Sans mused. If it was, it wasn’t a very funny one, in his opinion. 

Isaac paused in the kitchen, looking around for a glass and then turning to the sink. Sans found you still in the pillow fort, half asleep and staring at the television with a glassy, far-away stare. You blinked and looked up when he sat beside you, smiling. 

“Hey.” You leaned into him as he laid beside you, scooting closer so you were pressed up against his side. Soft snored loudly, kicking one foot in their sleep.

“heya, sleepyhead.”

“Hmph. Says the guy that slept all day.” You yawned, pressing your cheek into your pillow. He draped one arm over you, and you hummed, eyes closing.

Isaac came back into the room just then, holding a half-empty glass of water. He took in the scene, closed his eyes, took a deep breath, then smiled. He tiptoed over and around Sharp and Soft, sitting on a chair that had been pushed to one side. The blanket Sans had given him was still wrapped around his shoulders.

“Hey, Sans?” You yawned, words muffled as you dropped your head heavily onto a pillow. 

“yeah?”

“Love you.”

Sans touched his teeth to your temple. “love you, too.”

 

Isaac watched as the movie came to an end, picking up the remote and turning the television off. Everyone else was asleep, the house full of the murmur and snores of their slumber. He got up and stretched, shoulders and back clicking quietly. He rubbed his neck, then tiptoed around the sleeping group. 

He’d never been very good with kindling, but it helped that the fire in the fireplace wasn’t entirely dead yet. He stirred it a bit with the dangerous-looking poker, then cautiously pushed some fresh wood onto the glowing embers, willing them to catch light. Hopefully, that would be enough to last the night…

He straightened up, looking around. Of all the places he’d thought he’d end up, this was certainly not on the list… but he’d found you. He smiled to himself. He’d found you! You were alive.

He glanced over. You were curled into Sans’ side, sleeping soundly, vulnerable but safe in the skeleton monster’s arms.

Isaac smiled, but it wasn't the same as the first. You were alive, and happy, and that was all that mattered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoops this took a long time
> 
> Umm idk really know what to say about this one? I hope it's okay, there's a lot I wanted to get out in this one before I tackled the next chapter... If it's a mess, I'm sorry, I kind of rushed it and slapped it together, I wanted to get something out for you guys.
> 
> I hope you're having a good day! Feel free to drop me some comments, I love everything you send my way! ^^


	41. The angel she couldn't kill

“Isaac, do a handstand!”

“But I… Okay, I’ll try…”

Isaac was panting, forehead covered in a faint shine of sweat. Frisk and Papyrus had been asking him to do ‘tricks’ for them all morning, most of them ending in small disasters, but he couldn’t seem to say ‘no.’ He dropped to all fours, hesitated for several seconds, then pushed off with his feet and wobbled in the air for half a second before crumpling to the floor with a startling ‘thump.’ He groaned, lying in his heaped position without making any move to get up. Frisk and Papyrus broke into badly muffled snickering. 

Several days had passed since Isaac had joined your little burrow of monsters and humans, and so far he still seemed happiest when interacting with Frisk. You weren’t really surprised he was favoring the human child, but you were glad any time you caught him giving Papyrus an awkward chuckle or Soft a skittish pat. Any little bit was better than nothing.

You chuckled nervously, walking over and kneeling beside him. 

“You, uh. You all right down there?”

He groaned again and lifted his head, wheezing. “Yeah, I’m good. Just need to…” he paused to puff a few times, “catch my breath…”

You sighed. “If you say so. C’mon.” You stood up, holding out your hand. “Why don’t we all step out for a little fresh air? At this rate you’re going to break something. It’s time some kids got around to stretching their legs a little bit.” 

You gave Frisk a look and they stuck out their tongue. You rolled your eyes, pulling Isaac to his feet. As Papyrus scooped Frisk up and ran up the stairs three at a time, Isaac gave you a questioning look. 

“Are you sure it’s okay? I mean, without Sans being around to keep an eye out, other monsters might… you know…”

Sans had gone out to do some shopping in town a little while ago. You smiled, glad Isaac was coming around to Sans, and waved a hand dismissively. “It’ll be fine, they don’t tend to come very close anymore. Besides, you’ve got me.”

Isaac laughed, catching you slightly off guard. “Right. I guess, er, those guys could chase anything off, right? You said they’re protective, right? Chased some monsters away before or something?”

He waved toward where Sharp and Soft were ‘fighting’ over a scrap of cloth. You laughed shortly, stomach churning as they noticed you staring and got up to amble over, Sharp’s gate uneven and lurching. 

“Uh, sure. If worst comes to worst, I guess they could.” You scratched Sharp’s neck and he growled lowly, leaning up into the touch as though pleased. “C’mon, let’s go grab something from Sans’ room for you to wear. Some more snow came down a few days ago, you’re gonna need a few layers.”

Isaac shrugged, though he smiled at your concern. “Don’t worry about me, my dad’s old bomber is lined with alpaca wool. I can be sweating in below zero with that thing.”

“All right, suit yourself.” You turned toward the stairs just as Frisk and Papyrus came clambering down, Frisk now decked with a thick sweater buttoned up to their chin and a knit cap on their head. You paused to give them a passing hug as you made your way to Sans’ room. “You all go on ahead without me, I’ll be just a minute. Go on, Sharp, go with them. I’ll be there in a minute.”

Sans’ room was dark, but not impossible to navigate. You rifled through some dresser drawers for a second, then pulled out a fleecy, faded dark-gray-and-black striped turtleneck. You pulled it on over your thin shirt, taking a moment to look out the window. 

It looked like Frisk and Isaac were trying to get a snowball rolling while Papyrus tossed a stick to Sharp and Soft. You gave the edge of the woods a passing glance, then stopped. For a moment, it had looked like something had moved just where the shadows became too thick to see through, but when you focused on the spot, there was nothing there. You shook your head, telling yourself you were getting too paranoid for your own good, and left the room, closing the door behind you.

 

The back door creaked as you pushed it open, thunking solidly closed behind you. Sharp and Soft raced back and forth across the yard, each taking turns to snatch a stick from each other. Frisk looked up as you stood at the edge of the porch, waving you over. 

“C’mon, Isaac and I are gonna build the biggest snowman ever!”

You smiled, shaking your head. “No, no. You guys go ahead and claim all that glory. I’m gonna help by supervising.”

Frisk pouted as you sat on the steps, but otherwise didn't protest as Isaac heaped snow up into a lopsided mound. Frisk stepped back a few feet, planting their hands on their hips and eyeing Isaac’s work. “It needs a little more snow on the left. No, the other left!”

Isaac laughed, scooping up some snow with both gloved hands. He smiled, patting the blob of snow into a rounder shape. “You’ll make a great leader one day, buddy!”

Frisk blinked, tilting their head curiously. “Really?”

“Oh, yeah. You’re a natural.”

Frisk smiled, puffing out their chest proudly. Papyrus came up behind them, sockets wide and eager.

“WHAT ABOUT ME, HUMAN? AREN’T I A NATURAL LEADER?”

Isaac laughed, and this time it wasn’t forced. “Sure, I don’t see why not. I think you’d make a great second-in-command for Frisk some day.”

You smiled, leaning your head in your hand and closing your eyes. Content. This was what content felt like. Isaac, Frisk and Papyrus continued to babble on, though you only caught the occasional snippet- ‘what about Sans,’ ‘I can’t really say,’ - but you weren’t really paying attention. There was a slow breeze, coming from the direction of Waterfall and blowing toward the town. You breathed in deeply, taking in the crisp smell of ice and snow and the sharp, wavering smell of the pines, and… something else. A strange sort of smell, barely there, but odd nonetheless, the sort of smell you only came across in old houses when you stepped on their dusty carpets or opened the ancient, jammed closet doors. Smells of a time long past snuffed up by your present interference. Where did you know that smell? You breathed deeper as the air fell still for a second, the strange smell hanging in the air. 

Sharp suddenly stopped, skidding in the snow and almost losing his balance. He froze, muscles tense, and lifted his head to the breeze, chest rising and falling rapidly as he sniffed. Soft trotted for two paces before coming to a confused stop, looping back to croon at Sharp. Sharp growled, and Soft froze too, head twisting around to stare into the gap between the house and the shed. Their posture shifted suddenly, their shoulders rolling up and their neck dipping down, head twisting oddly and arms and legs tucked in close, almost distorted. You were reminded vividly of a dog in submissive throes. 

You blinked, and remembered that smell- it had tinged the air all through Snowdin Town that first day the skeleton brothers had led you and Frisk to their home. You stood up. 

“Isaac,” you took a few steps into the yard; Sharp was still frozen, stance wide and firm, and Soft was cowering into the shoulder where an arm used to be, “Isaac, I need you to take Frisk inside. Papyrus, you go too.”

You kept your tone calm, even as you thought you heard heavy footsteps from the beaten path that led away into Snowdin Town. At first it looked like Isaac and Papyrus hadn’t even heard you, too busy laughing and competing to see who could build the second part of the snowman faster. 

“Isaac.”

He looked up, and something about the look on your face, or the tone of your voice, made the smile on his face fade fast. He looked confused, startled- scared? “What? Is something wrong?”

There were definitely footsteps, coming around the house. You turned away. “Take Frisk and go into the house. Now. Lock the doors.”

“But-”

You breathed deeply. There was her shadow, creeping up the path. There was an axe leaning against the side of the house. You walked in the direction of those heavy footsteps, taking slow and steady breaths as you went. 

You put a hand firmly on Sharp’s head as he came creeping up to you, for a moment looking intently into his green-marked face. “Stay.”

He gazed back at you, expression unreadable. It was a command, an order, not a gentle suggestion, and you knew he could tell. He bent his head, taking two steps backward.

She appeared as you were reaching the ax, still several yards away from you and even farther from Isaac and Frisk. Her armor gleamed blindingly, though this time she was lacking her helmet entirely. Her fists were clenched, brows furrowed, but her expression somehow tired. Was she growing wary of this fight?

She stopped as the yard came into view, her sharp yellow eye taking in Frisk and Isaac, both frozen in place, eyes wide- deer in headlights. Papyrus was just abreast of them, sockets wide but void of any readable emotion from here, and he was even stiller than the kids staring into the face of who might be their death. 

Sharp was crouching now, jaws open enough to show his teeth, frothy saliva drip-drip-dripping from the corners of his mouth; Soft was cowered behind him, whining quiet pleas under their shallow breaths. Her gaze stopped briefly on them, bright yellow eye lingering fleetingly on Sharp’s armless shoulder. Was that contempt in her gaze, or did it excite her to know she could instill such fear in her kind?

Her eye landed on you just as you got within reach of the axe. You grabbed it as you passed. You held her gaze as you walked, legs on the brink of shaking yet somehow feeling sturdier than they ever had. You could feel that swell of burning emotion within you, that urge to protect your friends and to hurt who had hurt them, and it was satisfying to see Undyne’s broken tooth jut awkwardly out of the rest. You breathed, in and out. 

“Isaac. Go. Now.”

Undyne sighed, a plume of steam rising from a dragon’s broken maw. “Do you really think doors will save them?” She shook her head, wary. “Last time was a fluke. Nothing will stop me from taking what’s mine, not this time.”

You gripped the axe handle with two hands, feeling the glare on your face without really meaning to make it. You picked up your pace, closer now. There was a gasp behind you, and Isaac called your name- fear clear in his voice. Undyne held your gaze, looking unimpressed.

“You can’t scare me, human. You’re a coward.”

Four more steps. Three more steps. Two more steps. You hoisted the axe up, lunging the last two strides, and swung it. Undyne’s eye flashed with shock, and a ringing noise struck the air as she dodged back just in time for the axe blade to graze the armor on her shoulder. 

The axe struck the cold earth hard, jamming itself in. You gave it a hard tug and staggered as it came free, turning to face Undyne again. Your vision filled with cerulean blue and, as though hit by a freight train, you were sent through the air, landing hard and rolling several feet. You gaped and gasped for breath, winded. You forced yourself up onto your hands and knees. The axe had skidded to a halt a yard away. You pushed yourself to your feet, staggering at first, and rushed to grab it. 

Snow crunched under Undyne’s quick footsteps, and as you lifted the axe and looked up, you caught her almost manic snarl. “Why do you keep getting in my way?!”

She summoned a spear, hurling it towards you. You rushed several steps backwards, and, with a thunk, it landed right where you had been standing. You breathed deeply, trying to fill your lungs again, and realized you were now nearly on the road in front of the house now- behind Undyne’s spiky shoulder pad, Isaac, Frisk, Papyrus and Orthrus rushed around the corner of the house, shouting a mess of words you couldn't decipher. You stepped farther backwards, and Undyne followed you, fury in her blinding eye.

You took several more steps back, the axe heavy in your hands. She followed, raising another spear. 

“I never wanted to fight you.” You huffed, trying to slow your breathing and pounding heart. You didn't have a plan, but maybe if you talked it would distract her long enough for you to think of one.

She sneered, hurling the spear- she was off form, sloppy with her intense desire to strike you. You had to jump to the side to avoid it nonetheless, nearly in front of the house now. You held her gaze, trying to draw her in, trying to draw her away from who she had really come for. Here, there would be more room to move, more possibilities to run if you had to…

“It’s you that forced me to do this, you just wouldn’t give up.”

She shook her head furiously, breathing hard. “If you had just let me kill you, it wouldn’t have gotten so many involved! Papyrus, Sans, those runts-! Just shut up and die, like all your kind deserves!”

She chucked another blazing blue spear. You staggered as you dodged this time. She was glaring so furiously, it was like trying to hold the gaze of wrath itself. You lunged at her, swung the axe. This time it grazed one of her hands, and yellow splattered in the snow. The axe landed heavily, and you yanked at it, struggling to free it from the solid earth. Just as it budged, Undyne’s elbow jabbed into your shoulder hard, sending you reeling. You staggered backward and away, unsure where you were for a moment, and struggled to lift the axe in both hands. She was panting, eye wide and wild, circling you. You turned in place, keeping your gaze fixed on that scarred face.

“I was willing to give you a chance. I tried, to see the better in you. Didn’t we help you? Wasn’t it us that saved you from roasting alive back in that place- that place with all the lava?” She snarled, shook her head and avoided your gaze. “I never wanted to fight you, not until you hurt him. Not until you tried to kill a child! I wanted to respect you, to try to see from your side of this damned ‘war’ thing. And now I just can’t. Nothing is worth a child’s life.”

You charged just as she did, swung at her, and hit- making a sizable dent in her armor, but not hitting flesh. She struck back, swinging a spear like a bat and hitting you in the side. You staggered away, trying to ignore the throbbing; that would surely bruise later…

She held her spear in both fists, hard enough to break bone. She looked almost mad, raving, but when she spoke, though slightly louder, it was taut and strained, as though she was trying to speak while being pulled apart at the seams,

“You just don’t get it, do you?! It’s you, or us! We’re dying down here! Every day, food runs a little lower, supplies a little sparser… And it’s killing us! It’s either one of your kids…” she wasn’t really glaring anymore, but there certainly wasn't a trace of a smile, “… or all of ours. You’re protecting your kind- I’m saving mine!”

She threw three spears in sharp succession, the last one tearing a long slit in your pant leg. You stopped, breathing hard, not really able to keep the axe aloft anymore, needing a second to calm the conflicting ocean of emotions and drives inside you- you, or them? Them, or you? What was fair? What was right? Was anything really ‘right’ in this situation?- and suddenly froze.

All around you, in a wide, wide circle, staring, unblinking, their collective breath fogging the air above them- monsters. Monsters. Monsters. So many different faces, so many eyes, so many you couldn’t make out individuals, expressions impossible to read. So that was what was in the air- the hot breath of so many monsters circling your only safe haven in this strange cavern of Hell. All of them were staring right at you, but all at least a hundred feet away, watching, watching, watching, not making a move, just standing, staring. Waiting. For what?

“NYAAAGH!”

You didn’t have time to react to Undyne’s battlecry before suddenly you were struck, again soaring several feet before landing hard enough to feel like your skeleton might come undone, only slightly cushioned by the snow. You sucked in a breath, trying to still the spasms of pain blazing up and down your spine. 

You could only cry out when a heavy weight suddenly slammed down upon your ankle- inside, something splintered- and then, as your hands scrabbled at the snow, upon your wrist- inside, something delicately snapped. Pain sending you reeling, you wheezed when the weight left your throbbing wrist to press down upon your chest with the weight of the Earth itself.

You opened your eyes, squinting through spinning vision. Undyne’s boot dug into your sternum, a spear poised to jam into your neck, her face a swirling, fanged mess way up above you.

You tried to breathe for several seconds, reflexively trying to push back against the thing holding you down. Your arm reflexively moved, perhaps to try and shove it away, but the slightest twitch made pain ricochet up and down your nerves. You dug your heel in to try and kick yourself away like a trapped animal and could only twist your face up in agony, throat too tight to scream. 

After the half a second of your instincts blindly attempting an escape, you went slack beneath her. You were tired, aching all over, and injured badly enough that just moving brought about a stabbing pain that made you want to weep. There was no way you could fight her off, not with a foot on your chest and a spear at your throat, not like this. 

Besides, had you ever really wanted to? 

You stared up into that beautiful eye- yellow, oh, how you missed yellow, missed it like the sun upon your cheeks and the quiet rush of ocean waves over sand- and gave in. Gave in to her desperate attempt to bring you down. Gave in to her need to fight.

Your vision went black for a fleeting moment, and your head suddenly spun as though you had stood up too quickly. An instant later, the world had drained of color and turned starker, shadows cutting deeper, and suddenly it was just you and Undyne. The world had shrunk to just this place, this circle of snow, this odd black-and-white battlefield. There was no Isaac, no Frisk, no other monsters. Just you. And her.

You swallowed, and felt the very tip of the spear prick your skin. She stared into your eyes for several seconds, expression unreadable, then moved the spear, hoisting it up above her head to strike down. Her gaze moved down, down to your chest, and suddenly her expression turned almost frightened- startled, uncertain, confused, borderline disgusted. Whatever she saw, it had not been what she was expecting. Her mouth twisted, pupil contracting to a mere slit, and under her breath, you just caught her hiss, “Why does it look like that?”

“Undyne.”

Your voice startled you with its croak. Her eye darted back to yours, still disturbed. You tried to breath around the weight on your chest. Somehow, right then, your pain seemed farther away, as though it existed somewhere else, as if you could get up and keep going if only given a moment to breathe.

“Please. It doesn’t have to be like this.”

Her expression twisted to something painfully sad, painfully desperate, and for the first time you saw the monster inside her that understood that a child had no place in a war like this and understood that a child certainly didn't deserve to die. “Don’t you get it yet? There is no other way!”

Something startlingly white shattered the pristine black background and struck Undyne’s shoulder, sending her rearing off of you and cracking the small, crystalline moment. Just like that, color shocked your eyes, and the rest of the world rushed back into existence. 

You tried to sit up, tried to see what was happening, but your head was throbbing, your vision going in and out of focus. Undyne was kneeling on the ground beside you, holding her shoulder and grimacing. Three bones stuck out through the armor, as though they had pierced through her like she was a pincushion; streams of yellow ran down her arm. 

Her head whipped up, teeth bared, only for the look to seemingly get stuck, words dying on her tongue. You looked over. In a gap in the ring of monsters, as though they had parted specifically for him, stood Sans, sockets empty and fists clenched.

Slowly, deliberately, he began to walk forward. Undyne rushed to her feet, snarling.

“Stay away, skeleton! This isn’t your fight, no matter what you say! One human is as good as any other!”

He did not stop. He raised his hand, palm out flat and fingers extended. Above his head materialized several more bones, their ends sharpened to points, poised to strike. Undyne lifted her good hand a fraction, as though to strike back, but two more bones came from a different direction and landed dangerously close to her feet. She flinched back several steps, spinning around.

In front of Isaac and Frisk and a violently shaking Orthrus, drawn up to his full height, was Papyrus, one hand held out just as Sans’ had been. Undyne stared, apparently unable to comprehend what was happening.

“Papyrus- you wouldn’t dare-”

Sans was drawing closer. She stared between him and his younger brother, a panicked tinge to her expression. She realized the audience of staring monsters was tracked on her now, unblinking, unflinching. She sneered.

“What are you all staring at?! Get away, all of you! Gah- fine! Have them! There's something wrong with it anyway!”

There was nothing she could do. She turned and ran toward the entrance to Waterfall. The monsters parted to let her through, but she made a leap as though jumping over them anyway. A second later, you could no longer distinguish her from anything else. When had your vision turned so fuzzy?

You collapsed in the snow from your half lifted position, only realizing you'd been crying when you blinked and tears leaked out of the corners of your eyes. The world was so bright, it was too painful. You had to close your eyes. Snow crunched and whispered next to your ear. You cracked open your eyes a sliver, and Sans was above you, looking scared and worried and murderous all at once.

“oh god, look at what she did to you… gah, if only i’d… why didn’t you call for me or something? say something, sweetheart, are you alright?”

You were having trouble breathing properly, and your voice came out raspy. “I’ve gotta say no to that one, but I think I’ll live.”

Sans grimaced and his sockets went empty, glaring horribly enough to kill a lesser man. “i am going to butcher that overgrown fish.”

You tried to reach up to touch him, but your arms were heavy. He saw your better hand twitch and rushed to grab it in his. “Don’t.” 

He studied your face, expression unreadable. The others crowded around just as he spoke. “… what?”

You shook your head, too weak to do much else. Why were you so drained? “Don’t… go after her. She won’t come back. Not again.”

Sans glowered. “how can you be sure?”

You closed your eyes. It hurt to look at all those faces, all swimming in fear and worry. Your head was throbbing. You could feel your heartbeat in your temples, bu-THUMP, bu-THUMP, bu-THUMP… “Call it… a hunch.”

Sans snorted. The world dipped in and out of darkness, sounds wavering at the edge of your hearing. Sharp and Soft were whining, and from Papyrus’ quiet murmurs you could only guess they were being held back or comforted by him. A hand touched your face, then a sturdier one felt your good wrist and mentioned something about a steady pulse. Someone’s arms slid underneath you and lifted you clear of the snow. You couldn’t help but whimper as you foot jarred against the ground. Sans cursed and murmured dozens of apologies into your hair. He was so warm, so comforting, and you were so tired…

“you, human. can you heal them?”

“I can… I can try my best. Quick, l-lets get them inside…” 

The world was lurching with Sans’ steps. You opened one eye briefly. The monsters of Snowdin Town who had watched the spectacle were dispersing without a word, some staying a few seconds longer than others to watch you be carried into the house. None of them looked back. It seemed an important lesson had been reaffirmed to them: Do not bother with what doesn’t belong to you, especially if the keeper is willing to fight for it.

Everything hurt too much. You had to close your eyes.

 

The next period was one you never could fully recall. Most of it was filled with the darkness of sleep, only rarely broken by the occasional fleeting consciousness. Once, you half woke to a terrible pain in your leg. You had squirmed, some sort of curse leaving your mouth. 

“be careful!”

That was Sans, his voice a harsh snarl. You were hot and sweaty, uncomfortably so, if only they would douse the fire… No! Not sweaty- there was a damp rag on your forehead. It slid to one side and almost immediately was pushed back into place by someone's hand. You couldn’t open your eyes, too sore, too tired, eyelids too heavy, just wanted to sleep…

“I’m trying! I’m trying to fix a broken ankle here, of course it’s going to hurt them!” 

Isaac sounded on the edge of hysteria, scared, harassed, defensive, voice rushed. Something hard was pressing against your ankle, digging into the skin, if only you could kick it away… Pain rippled up your leg again, and you tried to curl your fingers- but that hurt, too.

“Pull it tighter- y-yeah, like that, I think, now I think I just need to- to tie it in place and, er, wrap it up so it’s, er… sturdy, I think-”

“you think? do you even know what you’re doing?”

“I’m trying my best, okay?! I’m not a doctor, stop shouting at me!” 

There was a moment of heavy breathing, then sniffling. You would have to tell Sans… to be nicer to Isaac… he was just a boy, after all… 

“You’re not the only one worried about them, okay? Gosh. I’m doing what I can, please just let me do my thing, okay?”

You were pretty sure Sans said something in response, but the pain was ebbing, and sleep, wonderful sleep, was rising up around you and you were sinking into it’s warm, numb embrace…

 

The next time you became truly aware of being awake, you woke to find you were in Sans’ bed. It took several minutes of groggy blinking for things to come into focus. You looked around, slow and disoriented. The room was dim, but tidier than usual; the blinds were drawn, the lamp beside the bed turned on, casting the room in an unfamiliar yellowish glow. There were a few chairs lined up around the bed, some looking as though they'd been pushed aside or hadn’t been sat in recently. One was drawn up close to the head of the bed, close enough where you might have been able to reach out and touch whoever had been sitting there. Were these from the kitchen…?

You were staring dumbly at the chairs when movement at the edge of your vision made you look up. Sans had opened the door, a cup in his hands. You heard a sharp inhale of breath from him, and you blinked, and suddenly he was beside the bed, setting the cup on the bedside table roughly enough to make it clatter. You winced. Your head felt like it was full of cotton balls, sore and stuffy.

“you’re awake.” He sounded relieved, leaning over the side of the bed. “how do you feel?”

You scrunched up your face, trying to think. “Mmm. Tired.”

He sighed, sitting heavily in the chair nearest your head. You realized you were propped up on a small mountain of pillows, practically at eye level with him. “and you call me lazy.” He chuckled, but it sounded terrible, forced and choked. He stopped quickly, hand coming up to tentatively touch the back of yours. “you’ve been asleep for a day and a half.”

Really? When had you fallen asleep? And why did you feel so sore? You looked down at yourself, blinking. You were wearing an oversized t-shirt and, as far as you could tell, no pants. There was a shoddy wrap around your ankle, two sturdy rods of wood pressing into it on either side trapped by the gauze. Your leg was propped up on a pillow, the blankets carefully pulled away to expose the bandaged foot. Your wrist was in similar condition, though the wrap was put on in such a way only your fingers were exposed to the air and there were no wooden supports. 

Ah, you remembered now, at least vaguely. Undyne.

“Oh.”

“how do you feel? hot? cold? sore? ill?” Sans pressed, staring intently into your face. You shook your head, the words buzzing around in your skull like lazy, well-meaning bees. He sighed, then grabbed the glass off the table and held it to your face. “here. drink.”

You couldn't really hold it with your good arm, your muscles feeling like cottonfluff and stratus clouds and your eyelids feeling so heavy and hot, but with a little help from Sans, you managed a few sips. You made a face and pushed it away, stomach pitching. His expression turned and he took a breath to say something, but just then the door opened.

“Are they- oh! You’re awake! You should have told me, I-”

Your head was lolling, the room feeling like a different plain of existence. Who was it at the door? Whose voice was that? It sounded like Isaac, but that wasn’t right, Isaac shouldn’t be here, he had such a future waiting for him on the surface, not in this place…

“… been wanting to see them for…”

“… might be ill… don’t seem right…”

“… broken bones… Shock can be… give them some time…”

The surface… the surface was beautiful, really… if only you had wings…

You fell back into sleep.

 

“Have you ever heard the tale of the Savior?”

“Nu-uh.”

“I guess humans wouldn’t have it on the surface, huh? Hahah! Its this story about how some angel who’s seen the surface will come down, and the Underground will go empty!”

“What’s that mean?”

“I guess it means someone’s gonna fall down here and set us all free. It could mean you!”

“Heheheh. You really think so?”

“Uh-huh! Mom and Dad do, too!”

“Heheh. You’re all so weird. I'm not an angel.”

“Hey, um… When you do set us all free, I want to be the first to see the surface with you, Chara.”

“Heheheh! Of course, Asriel. Don’t be a dummy.”

 

You stretched, carefully, arms held up above your head and toes curling. Your wrist and ankle both protested, of course, but it was more tolerable today. You had finally woken up two days ago, and already you were itching to see just how well you could move on Isaac’s makeshift casts. The only problem? Well…

“i don’t think you should stretch so far. you might make it worse. just lie down and relax.”

You rolled your eyes. To say you had an overprotective boyfriend would be an understatement. 

You were still sitting in Sans’ bed, with your choice of pillows and blankets to choose from, several glasses of water of varying temperatures at hand at all times, and ‘visits’ from others kept to two at a time for no longer than twenty minutes so as not to ‘stress you out.’ (Frisk and Papyrus had both taken the time to make you ‘get well cards’ which were really just pieces of notebook paper folded in half with silly notes written on the inside. Both currently held places of honor on the bedside table.) Normally, you would have had none of this and would have already told Sans to turn it down a couple notches, but something was… off about him. You couldn’t really say what, but he seemed more edgy than usual, somehow a little more forceful.

“Oh, sure, my dearest keeper, I forget I don’t know what’s best for me. It's my wrist that's broken, not my neck, y’know.” You snapped, only half sarcastic. His eyebrows twitched, and he muttered under his breath, but otherwise he ignored the remark and reached over you, adjusting the pillow behind your shoulders.

You leaned forward to accommodate the move, and his hand on your shoulder pushed you back down. 

“no, just lie down. i’ve got it. you don’t need to move.”

You dragged a hand across your face, nearly at your limit. There was a small knock on the door, and you immediately called out a “Come in!” before Sans could respond. Again, his expression twitched, but he didn’t protest.

Isaac bumped the door open with his hip, a tray balanced in his hands. He smiled at you, and you smiled back. You couldn’t ignore the worried creases around his eyes, but he constantly assured you he was feeling much more assured now that you were awake; ‘Of course I worried when you slept for nearly three days,’ he’d laughed tensely, ‘but now that you’re awake I can tell you’re just fine.’

“Hey! I’ve got you some tea. It’s of some medical herb variety, supposed to help swelling go down… I might have kind of overpacked when I went to go looking for you, but at least it’s serving us well so far! The food is courtesy of Papyrus.” He laughed, walking over and setting a tray on the bedside table- three cups, a small kettle, a bowl of some kind of pasta. 

He edged closer, making Sans back up two steps, the skeleton looking sour. The back of Isaac’s hand came up and rested on your forehead for several seconds. He pulled away slowly.

“Still no sign of a fever… Feeling okay?”

You smiled. “Feeling as well as I should. Thanks, Isaac. You’d make a great nurse, y’know that?”

He waved a hand, a little pink in the face. “Ahah, not really. I just, y’know… spent some time trying to care for ill people in the past.”

You chuckled, reaching over to grab a cup, but someone else beat you to it. 

Sans pushed forward and poured a cup of tea, holding it up to you. “here.”

You turned your head away, a little frustrated that he was continuing his odd (and somewhat embarrassing) nurturing act in front of Isaac. You picked at the edge of the wrap around your wrist, annoyed by an itch underneath you couldn't reach. “Sans, please. I can hold it myself.”

Sans pulled your hand away from the gauze. He held up the cup again, expression stiff and unwavering. “don’t mess with that. you might make yourself worse. drink this. it’ll help.”

“Sans.” You raised your good hand and firmly pushed the mug away, giving him a look. “I’m not a child, and I’m not made of glass. I don’t need your help with this.”

His sockets twitched. “you can’t strain yourself. not when you’re like this.”

You clenched a fist and snapped back, “Come off it, Sans! I know my body better than you do and I say I’m fine! I’m not at Death’s door, and you’re not my keeper!”

He didn’t react for several seconds, sockets dark- then the porcelain mug in his hand shattered, tea dripping through his clenched fingers. You stared, startled, as he stood up suddenly.

“Sans! What was that? Are you all right?”

“i’ll be back in a minute. don’t go anywhere.” 

And he was out the door without a glance back, shoulders tense. 

You stared after him, running your good hand through your hair. “I just don't get it. What did I do? Why is he acting all…?”

“Possessive?” Isaac finished, sitting on the edge of the bed. You sighed.

“Yeah. That.”

Isaac shrugged. “I don't know. I’ve kind of figured he wasn't usually like this. Right?”

“I mean, he can be protective, but this is just silly.”

Isaac chuckled nervously. “I guess it kind of is, isn’t it?”

You punched his shoulder. “Don’t laugh, it’s really bugging me!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” He rubbed his shoulder, though it couldn’t have hurt. He looked thoughtful for a second, then spoke with a quiet, cautious kind of tone, “You know, I kind of wonder if he’s just scared… or something.”

You lifted an eyebrow at him. He picking at a patch of stubble on his cheek, staring off into space. “Scared? Of what? I mean, other than me moving the merest fraction of a centimeter.”

He smiled, but it faded quickly. “He was really on edge when we first… er… patched you up. At first I thought he was mad at me for letting all of that happen- I’m sorry, by the way, I wish I could have-”

“Isaac, we’ve been over this. I chose to do what I did.”

“I know, sorry… Well, what I mean is, he was really… snappish. Every little thing seemed to set him off when it came to you. I wonder if…”

“What?”

“I don’t know. He was making a fuss of how delicate humans are… I wonder if he was reminded that a bunch of things down here want to kill you, and maybe… could? I mean, for a second there, I really thought that- that shark monster thing might…”

He shuddered, squeezing his eyes shut. You touched his arm, and he visibly forced himself to relax. He took a deep breath, then continued as though nothing had happened.

“But, you know, after the initial shock and stuff, I kind of realized you were okay. Hurt, of course! But not… mortally wounded, or anything. I knew- and still know- you’re going to be fine in the end, even if, you know… those things don’t… heal quite right…”

“I’m sure I’ll still be able to use all of my appendages soon enough.” You patted him firmly, and he chuckled weakly.

“Aheh, yeah. I guess my point is, maybe he doesn’t really realize that? Maybe he’s so caught up in thinking about delicate we can be that he doesn’t realize we have incredible rebound, as well. People can survive and be perfectly healthy with large chunks of their brains missing, for Pete’s sake! I mean, I don’t know the guy, of course, so I can’t really say any of this for sure, but…”

You thought about it for several seconds, staring down at your hands- one well and perfectly whole, one nearly hidden entirely behind tan and white gauze, the dark purple of a bruise just peeking out from where it was wrapped several times below your wrist. You closed your eyes and leaned your head back, taking a deep breath.

“No, maybe you’re right. I guess there’s only one way to do this.” You opened your eyes. “So, how is Frisk doing?”

Isaac brightened. “Oh, they’re good! They’ve been helping me prepare practice exercises for your hand and leg when you can-” He gasped. “Oh! I said I’d be quick with the tea, we were in the middle of a game- will you be okay?”

“Sure, sure.” You waved your hand. “Go on ahead and have fun.”

“All right. Feel better, okay?”

With one last smile, Isaac dashed out of the room and rushed down the stairs. You waited several seconds, holding your breath, then slowly sat up. You moved an inch at a time, listening intently for footsteps outside the door. You slid first one leg, then the other, under the blankets and over the side of the bed. You gripped the sheets with your good hand, staring down at your feet dangling above the coarse carpet. You tried to flex your toes and winced.

Something rustled on the other side of the door and you looked up, hoping it wasn’t Sans. Instead, you heard a hushed, hiss-like whisper, “Human? Human?”

Sharp bumped the door open with his forehead, standing tentatively in the doorway, Soft just behind. You hadn’t seen them since the encounter with Undyne, Sans saying they might get overexcited and hurt you by accident. Truth be told, you’d been longing to see them, wanting to know if they were okay.

You patted your thighs. “Sharp! Soft! C’mere!”

Sharp pitched a pitiful whine, rushing into the room with his head low, body language strange- almost feeble. You leaned down, holding out your arms, and they pushed into the embrace, Sharp burying his face into your side. You squeezed Soft, rubbing Sharp’s shoulder gently.

“Aw, you guys, don’t worry, I’m okay. Are you guys okay? You didn’t get hurt, did you?”

Sharp shook his head minutely, and, in a quiet, raspy voice, began to speak, more clearly than you had ever him speak before: “Please… do not make ‘stay’ again… Please, please…”

You blinked. “… What?” 

Then you remembered. You had told them to stay, and they had: They had not rushed into the fight because you had pointedly told them not to, and they had had to sit back and watch as your bones had been broken and a weapon was held to your neck. 

“You are hurt and we… do nothing…” It was Soft that spoke this time, their voice a tiny whisper. 

You frowned, rubbing their cheek. They leaned into the touch, breathing out deeply. “It's okay, bud, it's okay. I'm fine. I'd rather be the one hurt than you be hurt.” They whimpered. You sighed. “I'm okay. We’re all okay. Don't worry.”

You sat there for a minute, comforting them the best you knew how. Sharp licked your fingers several times, touching the bandage on your wrist lightly with the tips of his fingers and making a strange, sad growl-like sound in his throat. You patted his head and sat up straighter, taking a deep breath.

“Okay. Okay. I can do this. Lets do this.”

You put weight on your good foot first, and balanced on it while you tentatively put your hurt one to the floor next. Pain shot up your leg and you winced, putting as little weight as you could on it while still standing. You weren't sure if you could walk like this, probably not very far, certainly not far enough to convince Sans…

You blinked as Sharp and Soft slid up on the side of your broken ankle, Sharp bumping your hand with his shoulder. He didn't look at you, only stared steadfastly ahead, and you felt a rush of love and gratitude. You gripped his shoulder and cautiously took your first step. It hurt, of course it did, but it was tolerable like this. You took another step, wobbled, and almost fell onto Sharp. Soft supported you both and you managed to right yourself. You were sweating, hurting, but anything was better than being in that bed. You took another step.

It was slow, painfully slow, but as you hobbled out of the bedroom- had it always been so large…?- you began to figure out how to make it work. You grabbed at the railing as soon as it was within reach, and winced as you tried to wrap the fingers of your hurt wrist around it, but you could almost walk upright that way. Sharp and Soft paced right alongside you, constantly on vigil for signs of you beginning to fall. You were heavily favoring your better leg, but if you got a long enough branch that could bear your weight, perhaps you could make a makeshift crutch…

You began to have second thoughts about the whole idea when you came to the stairs. Suddenly they looked terribly steep, terribly long. Sharp nudged your arm, luring you forward, and stepped down onto the first step in front of you. He looked up and huffed, briefly patting the step with his hand. You sighed, smiling.

“Okay. If you can do it, so can I.”

You had to close your eyes to make the stairs stop spinning. It was easier that way, feeling along with clumsy feet, going hand-over-hand down the railing a step at a time. Occasionally you had to stop, the pain reaching up to your knee and locking the muscles in place, but finally, after what felt like an hour, you felt the carpet at the bottom and reached the end of the rail. You opened your eyes, panting for air, and felt a rush of satisfaction. And exhaustion. But mostly satisfaction.

“(Y/N)!”

There was a rushing patter of feet and small arms wrapped around your waist. You smiled, petting Frisk’s hair. They had been careful about not pressing on anything that might hurt and not hugging you too hard- your side ached where Undyne had swung at it- and you still needed to find a way to both comfort and thank them.

“Hey, bud. Keep your voice down a little, okay?”

They smiled and did a motion as if they were zipping their lips shut and gave you one last tiny squeeze before backing away to let Papyrus swoop in for his hug. Next came Isaac, spewing out a rush of stuttering questions and fretful reminders about not exerting yourself too much. You shut him up by ruffling his hair into his eyes. He sputtered, stepping back and scooping his hair out of his face.

“I’m fine, guys. Don’t fret over me, I’m just stretching my legs a bit.”

You took a few steps toward the kitchen, leaning as gently on Sharp’s shoulder as you could manage and focusing on your feet. There was a clatter that made you jump, head flinching up so fast you got whiplash. Sans was standing in the door way to the kitchen, a handful of porcelain shards at his feet. You stared down at the shards- the mug he’d broken?- then up at his face, startled. He wasn’t quite frowning, but certainly not smiling; the worst thing was his sockets, dark and empty. Had those shadows always been beneath them? You hadn’t even noticed them as you sat in the bed, though you weren’t sure how. A sudden thought hit you: Had he even been sleeping all this time? Each time you’d woken during the night, he’d been sitting beside the bed, wide awake and asking if you needed water as soon as noticed your eyes were open.

“Sans-”

He walked to you hurriedly, hands going up as though to grab your shoulders and stopping before he could touch you. He grimaced, pulling his hands away. “what are you doing? you should be lying down. why are you out of bed?”

His tone was harsh, snappish. You tried not to roll your eyes, reminding yourself he was like this because he cared. “Do I need an excuse to come see my favorite people? I just wanted to get out of the bedroom for a while.”

“i could have taken you down here if you had just asked me. you shouldn’t have come by yourself. what if you’d hurt yourself?”

“Sans, there is no way you would have let me out of that room even if I asked.”

“…”

You sighed, rubbing at the bridge of your nose. “Sans, you need to lighten up. I’m not going to croak just because someone stepped on my fingers. You don’t need to be so skittish. I’m not going anywhere.”

He blinked, and the red lights were back in his sockets. With them there, he looked less angry and more scared. “you don’t know that. you went out there and you fought her, as if she couldn’t have killed you. you’re not immortal, you can’t be acting like you are.”

You frowned, wondering if you should tell him you knew very well you could have died when you’d swung that axe. You touched his shoulder. “Well, Sans… I mean, I’m still okay, but nobody lives forever. Someday, I’m going to die and, y’know, since monsters live so much longer than humans do, you’re going to have to just kind of… carry on without me. You can’t force me not to die.”

His sockets were empty again by the time you were done. He took a shuddering breath, and suddenly threw his arms around you, digging his phalanges into the back of your shirt. He buried his face into your shoulder, inhaling deeply. You tensed, then relaxed into his snug embrace, rubbing the back of his skull.

“i would make you live forever if i could. i never want to lose you, especially not like that. just promise me you’ll never put yourself in harms way like that again.”

You sighed, leaning your cheek on his skull. His grip on you tightened minutely. “… I’m not going anywhere. Not here, not now. You don’t have to be scared. I promise that.”

You stood like that for a long time. It took you a while to realize he was listening to your breathing, just as you were paying attention to the way his phalanges drew small circles on your back as he eased more naturally into the embrace. You leaned into him, legs tired, and let your eyes drift closed. 

“I love you, Sans. Even though you can be way overprotective sometimes.”

He snorted, pulling away but keeping his hands loosely on your shoulders. “i’d call it reasonable.”

You laughed. “You would.”

He sighed, eyes white again, and you felt a wash of relief; he was letting himself unwind again. He still looked tired, but that was fixable. You patted his shoulder. 

“C’mon, big guy. Something tells me you’re due for a nap.”

You turned to lead him toward the sofa and he hastily grabbed your arm, stopping you. He was still nervous about letting you walk, but at least he hadn't swept you off your feet and dragged you back up the stairs… You gripped his arm and grabbed his shoulder, taking a small step. He caught on and helped you over to the sofa in the same way Sharp and Soft had helped you out of the bedroom. You sat first, and he sat beside you, wrapping one hand around you and dragging you as close as he could manage. You shook your head, bemused, and sidled into his lap. Immediately, his arms wound around your middle. You leaned back into him, breathing out slowly. You saw, in the corner of your eye, Isaac turn away. You looked over, confused, but there was a small smile on his face as he dragged his sleeve across his eyes.

You sat like that for a long time, listening to Isaac show Papyrus and Frisk how to make paper snowflakes in low, quiet tones. This place was cozy, and felt so safe… If only it could stay this way forever… A miniature, happier Underground inside an enormous, unhappy one…

“Oh, Sans. I’ve been meaning to ask a favor…”

He smothered his face in the back of your neck. “hm?”

“When you get the chance, I want to see any book you can find that tells me anything about the Barrier.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Guess who finally has the plot all planned out in their head!!!!! It's me and also I'm excited about it!!!! I'm so HYPED to get to the next parts of the story, you guys have no idea hhghghghfhfhgh!!!!
> 
> Anyway, uh, sorry this chapter is so long and awkward and disjointed, I was excited to get to the next part,, So much needed to happen in this chapter and I wrote most of it in two past-midnight writing-rushes and I was so excited to get it out for you guys I edited it in a rush,,,
> 
> I hope you enjoy and I hope you're as excited as I am to get to the next chapter! Something big will happen. Well, big to me, at least,, >>' I've been planning it for a while now hhghhfh,,
> 
> Leave me some comments if you want! I love all of them hhfhghghgh. I hope you have a good day!


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